Alaska  nl]u 
Qamelands 


J.  A.  mcQUIRE 


-5. 


0 


-       ,ff  -    IN  THE 

ALASKA-YUKON 
GAMELANDS 


J.  A.  MCGUIRE 

Introduction  by 

WILLIAM  T.  HORNADAY 

(Photographs  by  the  author) 


CINCINNATI 

STEWART  KIDD  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1921 

STEWART  &  KIDD  COMPANY 


All  Rights  Reserved 
COPYRIGHT  IN  ENGLAND 


Set  up  and  Electroplated  by  THE  ABINGDON  PRESS 
Published  April.  1921 


Co 


THOSE   PRINCELY  SPIRITS 

OF  OUR  LA.VD  WHO  HAVE  GIVEN, 

IN  TIME  AND  MONEY,  THAT  OUR  PRECIOUS 


MAY     BE      PRESERVED     TO     POSTERITY 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED  BY 


IURL 

OC/  30  6  01  (T 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

Introduction,  by  William  T.  Hornaday     -     -       9 

I  Enroute  to  the  Hunting  Grounds     -     -     -     -     15 

II  In  the  Goat  and  Glacier  Fields  -----     45 

III  Russell  Glacier  -----------71 

IV  Sheep — Both  White  and  Dark — a  Digression   -     81 

V  On  the  Sheep  Ranges  --------  101 

VI  Sheep,  Moose  and  Caribou          -     -     -     -     -119 

VII  Moose  and  Caribou      ----____  141 

VIII  Rams  and  Caribou       .........  163 

IX  A  New  Species  of  Caribou — Rangifer  mcguirei  179 

X  Homeward  Bound        --______  187 

XI  Outfitting  Hints _     _     _  199 

XII  Afterthoughts     - 214 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

No.  Page 

1.  Good-bye  to  home  for  seventy  days      -     -     -     18 

2.  Our  first  impression  of  traveling  on  a  glacier — 

the  Nizina.  Going  goat  hunting  this  morning     58 

3.  Scene  of  a  busy  camp.    Everybody  must  work 

during  packing-up  time       ______     68 

4.  Crossing,  'midst  grand  surroundings,  a  glacial 

stream,  the  Frederika     -------74 

5.  Cliffs,  canyons  and  hills  of  the  glacial  moraine 

— Russell  Glacier      --------     78 

6.  Upper  picture — A  "kettle-biled"  lunch  in  the 

caribou  country.  Middle  —  How  a  sheep 
specimen  was  damaged  by  eagles.  Lower — 
A  large  white  sheep  -------88 

7.  The  beautiful  Kletsan  camp  on  White  River    -     96 

8.  The  "Too-Much"  Johnson  cabin,  Kletsan  Creek  106 

9.  Upper  picture — The  author  and  45-inch  moose. 

Middle — Grayling  fishing  on  Harris  Creek. 
Lower — A  fly  came  in  handy  to  sleep  under 
at  Skolai  Pass  ---------  144 

10.  Skinning  specimens  in  the  taxidermist's  tent     -  152 

11.  Left  picture — Mr.  James  and  his  night  abode 

for  six  weeks.  Middle — The  author  and  a 
nice  specimen  of  white  sheep.  Right — A 
horse  falls  in  a  crevice  on  Nizina  Glacier  -  170 

12.  Group  of  rangifer  mcguirei      -     -     -     -     -     -182 

13.  Type  specimen  of  rangifer  mcguirei  -     -     -     -  184 

14.  The    singular    dentition    found    in     rangifer 

mcguirei      ---------          -  190 

15.  Nearing  the  end   of  Russell  Glacier,  twenty- 

four  horses  in  line     --------194 

1 6.  Route  traveled   by  the  party  in  Alaska  and 

Yukon  Territory        ........  210 


INTRODUCTION 

T/^IEWED  from  any  side  or  angle,  a  long, 
arduous  and  costly  expedition  from  Denver 
to  the  north-eastern  boundary  of  Alaska  in  the 
interest  of  museum  groups  of  wild  animals  well 
may  be  regarded  as  a  tribute  to  the  Museum 
Group  Idea.  Moreover,  as  hunting  trips  go, 
that  kind  of  "game"  is  well  "worth  the  candle." 

Up  to  this  time,  the  term  "habitat  group"  is 
of  new  coinage,  and  very  generally  unknown. 
In  a  few  words,  it  stands  for  an  assemblage  of 
important  zoological  specimens  that  have  been 
mounted  by  the  taxidermist's  art,  surrounded  by 
natural  or  artificial  trees,  plants,  flowers,  rocks, 
land  and  water,  either  drawn  from  or  made  to 
represent  the  natural  haunts  of  the  beasts  or 
birds,  and  displayed  in  a  museum  case  specially 
designed  for  it. 

The  animal  specimens  must  be  the  finest  of 
fine.  The  accessories  must  be  provided  lavishly, 
and  with  consummate  skill.  Each  large  group 
of  this  kind  represents  a  tour  deforce,  and  many 
of  them  are  masterpieces  of  real  art.  They  are 
expected  to  endure  for  a  century  or  longer,  and 
to  interest  and  instruct  millions  of  people  long 
after  the  species  represented  have  been  exter- 
minated by  the  grinding  progress  of  modern 
civilization. 


INTRODUCTION 

Many  sportsmen  have  gone  far,  risked  much 
and  toiled  long  in  the  procuring  of  rare  animals 
and  accessories  for  habitat  groups.  In  the  list 
of  unpaid  men  who  have  done  so,  we  find  the 
names  of  Theodore  Roosevelt,  Col.  Cecil  Clay, 
John  M.  Phillips,  Childs  Frick,  Richard  Tjader, 
C.  V.  R.  Radcliffe,  W.  S.  Rainsford  and  the 
author  of  this  volume. 

Work  of  this  kind  appeals  particularly  to 
sportsmen  with  an  inborn  love  for  creative  work, 
and  delight  in  the  construction  of  fine,  monu- 
mental things  out  of  the  raw  materials.  Mr. 
McGuire  first  "tasted  blood"  in  the  making  of 
museum  groups  when  he  hunted  and  killed  the 
largest  specimens  for  the  splendid  group  of  silver- 
tip  grizzly  bears  that  now  is  a  source  of  pride  to 
his  home  museum  in  Denver.  Beyond  a  doubt, 
it  was  the  joyous  contemplation  of  that  master- 
piece, so  ably  and  satisfactorily  wrought  out 
by  and  under  the  direction  of  Director  Jesse  D. 
Figgins,  that  inspired  the  trip  over  the  long  trail 
to  Alaska  and  Yukon  Territory,  and  here  do  I 
ask  this  question: 

What  finer  sentiment  could  inspire  any  trip  in 
quest  of  big  game  than  the  intent  to  bring  into 
existence  two  or  three  great  habitat  groups  to 
entertain  and  to  educate  Americans,  old  and 
young,  long  after  Time  has  overtaken  the  gallant 
hunter,  and  his  rifle  has  been  hung  up  forever? 

I  have  seen  "the  White  River  country"  of 
North-eastern  Alaska  and  Yukon  Territory  re- 

10 


INTRODUCTION 

ferred  to  as  "the  last  big-game  hunting  ground 
of  North  America."  Can  it  be  true  that  this 
claim,  or  feeling,  constituted  Mr.  McGuire's 
reason  for  going  over  300  miles  from  salt  water  to 
look  for  big  game?  Where  are  the  giant  moose, 
the  Kenai  caribou  and  the  white  sheep  of  the 
Kenai  Peninsula?  Where  are  the  moose  that 
were  so  big  and  so  abundant  in  the  Susitna  val- 
ley only  twenty  years  ago?  Where  are  the  white 
sheep  of  the  Matinuska,  common  enough  for  all 
purposes  in  1900  and  after? 

But  let  us  not  say  that  those  hunting  grounds 
are  one  and  all  "shot  out,"  or  forever  closed  to 
the  sportsman.  Not  until  we  are  compelled,  do 
we  admit  the  state  of  "no  game."  Let  us  believe 
that  the  lure  of  the  McGuire  party  was  the  really 
magnificent  wide-horned  breed  of  white  sheep 
that  is  found,  in  numbers  really  worth  while,  in 
the  White  River  country.  We  will  not  soon  for- 
get our  astonishment  when  we  first  saw  a  collec- 
tion of  five  wide-horned  sheep  heads  from  that 
region.  We  are  glad  that  Mr.  McGuire's  party 
obtained  fine  specimens  of  that  very  interesting 
development  of  Ovis  dalli. 

I  find  Mr.  McGuire's  story  and  pictures  more 
interesting  than  any  mere  moving-picture  trav- 
els. His  graphic  and  conscientious  pen  gives  us 
the  action,  and  his  pictures  furnish  the  local 
color  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  the  reader.  Jaded 
indeed  must  be  the  mind  that  cannot  turn  from 
the  worries  and  the  care  of  the  daily  business 

ii 


INTRODUCTION 

life  to  this  stirring  portrayal  of  travel  and  adven- 
ture, in  a  strange  and  wild  land  after  strange 
wild  beasts. 

We  are  glad  that  the  Colorado  Museum  of 
Natural  History  is  prosperous,  and  in  need  of 
the  groups  that  intrepid  sportsmen  and  skilled 
taxidermists  together  can  create.  We  are  glad 
that  this  trip  was  made,  and  that  Mr.  McGuire 
has  given  us  this  admirable  account  of  it.  The 
personnel  of  the  expedition  seems  to  have  been 
excellently  composed.  The  local  cooperation 
was  gratifying  and  effective.  The  supply  of 
game  was  sufficient,  and  the  killing  was  done 
with  commendable  moderation.  Such  toll  of 
wild  life  as  was  taken  by  that  party  does  not 
spell  extermination;  and  we  hold  that  there  is  no 
higher  use  to  which  a  dead  wild  animal  can  be 
devoted  than  to  mount  it  for  permanent  exhibi- 
tion in  a  free  public  museum. 

Incidentally,  the  pictures  of  far  northern  scen- 
ery, life  and  character  herein  set  forth  are  dis- 
tinctly educational,  and  to  the  honor  and  glory 
of  Alaska  and  Yukon  Territory.  They  draw  us 
nearer  to  our  great  Arctic  province,  whose  people 
now  are  somewhat  irritated  and  inclined  to  chafe 
over  the  neglectful  treatment  that  for  forty  years 
and  more  has  been  bestowed  upon  that  far-away 
land.  The  Congress  and  people  of  the  United 
States  never  have  taken  Alaska  with  sufficient 
seriousness;  and  the  people  of  Alaska  have  been 
strangely  slow  and  backward  in  setting  forth 

12 


INTRODUCTION 

before  the  American  people  their  governmental 
and  administrative  rights  and  needs. 

Far  too  long  and  too  much  has  Alaska  been 
left  to  work  out  her  own  salvation.  Now  Alas- 
kans are  beginning  to  clamor  for  the  privileges 
of  statehood — long  before  their  territorial  re- 
sources are  sufficient  for  Alaska's  many  needs. 

It  is  the  duty  of  Congress,  and  of  all  fair- 
minded  Americans,  to  take  a  proper  amount  of 
interest  in  Alaska,  and  put  Alaska  in  the  list  of 
well-financed  and  well-managed  political  and 
economic  units  of  the  American  possessions. 

WILLIAM  T.  HORNADAY. 


First  Chapter 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING 
GROUNDS 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  SOURDOUGH 

There  where  the  mighty  mountains  bare  their  fangs  unto  the  moon, 
There  where  the  sullen  sun-dogs  glare  in  the  snow-bright,  bitter  noon, 
And  the  glacier-glutted  streams  sweep  down  at  the  clarion  call  of  June. 

There  where  the  livid  tundras  keep  their  tryst  with  the  tranquil  snows ; 
There  where  the  silences  are  spawned,  and  the  light  of  hell-fire  flows 
Into  the  bowl  of  the  midnight  sky,  violet,  amber  and  rose. 

There  where  the  rapids  churn  and  roar,  and  the  ice-floes  bellowing  run ; 
Where  the  tortured,  twisted  rivers  of  blood  rush  to  the  setting  sun — 
I've  packed  my  kit  and  I'm  going,  boys,  ere  another  day  is  done. 

— Robert  Service. 


FIRST  CHAPTER 
ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

HOPE  to  be  pardoned  for  entertaining  no 
•••  ambition,  in  this  work,  to  produce  an  ex- 
haustive treatise  on  the  hunting  possibilities 
of  either  Alaska  or  Yukon  Territory;  for  to 
emerge  from  a  two-months'  trip  into  the  wilds  of 
that  country  and  be  able  to  write  a  history  of  it 
would  be  about  as  impossible  as  to  return  from  a 
month's  visit  to  Timbuctoo  and  pen  an  accurate 
chronicle  of  the  whole  African  race.  First,  the 
coast  and  interior  of  Alaska  are  about  as  dissimi- 
lar as  the  two  sides  of  the  Cascade  Mountains 
of  Washington — the  coast  being  warm,  wet  and 
woodsy,  while  the  interior  is  dry  and  sunny— 
and  in  winter  fiercely  cold,  sometimes  reaching 
down  to  the  very  chilly  level  of  75  degrees  below 
zero.  For  200  miles  inland  this  rain  belt  reaches, 
and  thru  its  width  one  encounters  ferns,  vines 
and  underbrush  to  an  almost  impenetrable  de- 
gree— where  bears,  berries  and  the  usual  aquatic 
plants  and  fowls  are  numerous.  Here  on  the 
coast  bears  and  ducks  furnish  the  sport  for  the 
hunter — and  no  "milk-and-water"  Nimrod  is  he 
who  braves  the  elements  and  the  hard  traveling 

'7 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

conditions  usually  found  here.  It  takes  a  man 
of  strong  heart  and  stout  limb  to  stalk  the  bear 
and  shoot  the  duck  in  this  labyrinth  of  vine  and 
shrub  entanglement  in  the  rain  and  snow,  which 
are  so  prevalent  here.  Seattle  with  her  thirty- 
four  inches  of  precipitation  a  year  seems  like  an 
arid  country  when  compared  with  Ketchikan, 
Juneau  and  Cordova,  each  of  which  piles  up  any- 
where from  125  to  175  inches  a  year;  while  Colo- 
rado, with  her  fifteen  inches  of  moisture,  is  in- 
deed "bone-dry"  in  comparison.  A  school 
teacher  at  Ketchikan  recently  was  explaining 
about  the  Flood,  saying  that  it  rained  for  forty 
days  and  forty  nights,  and  that  all  on  the  earth 
were  drowned  except  those  in  the  ark.  One  lit- 
tle child  spoke  up,  saying  no  one  could  make  him 
believe  that  story.  "Why?"  asked  the  teacher. 
"Because,"  said  the  boy,  "it's  been  raining  here 
every  day  the  last  ten  years  and  nobody's  been 
drowned  yet." 

The  Colorado  Museum  of  Natural  History, 
Denver,  fostering  a  well-founded  notion  that  it 
should  be  second  to  no  other  such  institution  in 
the  West  or  Middle  West,  and  harboring  within 
its  organization  some  of  America's  greatest  nat- 
uralists, philanthropists  and  sportsmen,  finished, 
during  the  past  three  years,  a  beautiful  and  com- 
modious wing  to  its  already  magnificent  struc- 
ture in  Denver's  City  Park  (a  gift  from  Mrs. 
Helen  Standley — while  Harry  James  and  his  sis- 
ter, Mrs.  Lemen,  have  donated  $100,000  for  a 

18 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

similar  wing  on  the  south  side  of  the  building). 
And  in  order  that  this  wing  or  the  cases  provided 
to  be  set  in  it  should  not  go  unadorned,  the  mu- 
seum board,  thru  its  very  efficient  director,  Jesse 
D.  Figgins,  appointed  Harry  C.  James  and  the 
writer  to  head  an  expedition  to  Alaska  and  Yu- 
kon Territory  for  the  purpose  of  collecting  some 
mammal  groups  suitable  to  fill  the  new  wing. 
So,  armed  with  sundry  licenses,  permits  and 
plenary  portfolios  from  the  United  States,  Alas- 
kan and  Yukon  governments  (to  say  nothing  of 
divers  big  guns  and  hundreds  of  shells  of  very  sub- 
stantial power  and  velocity),  we  boarded  a  Union 
Pacific  train  in  Denver  on  the  evening  of  July  27,  Y 
1918,  bound  for  Seattle.  Added  to  our  hunting 
party — which  was  composed  of  Mr.  James,  his 
son  William,  and  the  writer — was  Al  Rogers, 
the  museum  taxidermist,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
take  care  of  the  specimens  secured  on  the  trip. 
A  two-and-a-half-day  streak  along  smooth 
rails  landed  our  party  of  four  in  Seattle,  where 
we  met  John  H.  Bunch,  the  Sequoian  chief  of 
the  Alaska  Steamship  Company's  destinies  in 
that  district;  George  Allen,  the  vim-and-vigor 
merchant  of  that  burg,  and  C.  C.  Filson,  the 
outing  goods  outfitter  and  manufacturer  of  the 
well-known  Filson  Cruiser  Shirt.  These  genial  * 
gentlemen  seemed  to  lose  all  interest  in  their 
business,  their  families  and  in  their  religion, 
when  we  struck  the  city,  for  they  gave  up  every- 
thing for  our  comfort  and  amusement. 

'9 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

The  time  passed  quickly  on  the  good  ship 
Alaska  (of  the  Alaska  Steamship  Line)  from 
Seattle  as  far  as  Skagway,  the  short  stops  at  the 
latter  point,  at  Ketchikan  and  Juneau  inter- 
posing a  lively  diversion  from  the  quiet  roll  of 
the  boat  up  the  Inside  Passage.  Singing,  danc- 
ing, cards,  lectures,  sourdough  talks  and  tete-a- 
tete  parties  formed  absorbing  amusement  for  the 
passengers  while  going  up.  Prof.  Herschel  C. 
Parker,  of  Mount  McKinley  climbing  fame,  was 
on  board,  and  in  a  stump  speech  told  us  of  the 
experiences  of  Bellmore  Brown  and  himself 
while  climbing  the  great  mountain.  Governor 
Riggs  and  wife  boarded  the  boat  at  Juneau,  and 
from  there  to  Cordova  were  passengers  with  us. 
Other  notable  personages  on  the  boat  were 

X  Thomas  J.  Corcoran,  a  big-game  hunter,  of  Cin- 
cinnati, Ohio,  and  two  of  his  guides  (Archie  Mac- 
Lennan  and  Frank  Williams) ;  Dr.  George  Curtis 

/  Martin,  of  the  U.  S.  Geological  Survey,  who  has 
made  annual  trips  to  Alaska  in  the  interest  of 
the  government  for  more  than  a  dozen  years; 

/  and  C.  C.  Georgeson,  D.Sc.,  agronomist  in  charge 
of  Alaska  experimental  stations  at  Sitka — a 
truly  representative  and  brainy  aggregation  of 
men. 

A  whale  spouted  200  yards  away  to  the  lar- 
board as  we  cut  thru  the  waters  after  leaving 
Dixon's  Entrance.  I  was  one  of  those  lucky 
enough  to  see  the  monster  perform.  Clear  skies 
and  favorable  winds  were  with  us  until  after 


20 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

passing  Cape  Spencer,  lying  beyond  Skagway. 
At  this  point  our  boat  took  to  the  open  sea,  leav- 
ing the  protective  islands,  behind  which  she  had 
quietly  glided  almost  continually  since  leaving 
Seattle.  And  right  here  is  where  one  of  the  most 
malicious  attempts  to  swamp  a  boat  that  ever 
occurred  was  almost  pulled  off  by  a  sub-sea 
"force."  Before  we  could  collect  our  thoughts, 
it  seemed,  Old  Neptune  took  a  dive  under  our 
boat,  succeeding,  within  four  inches,  of  upsetting 
the  craft.  I  was  in  my  stateroom  at  the  time. 
Harry  James  was  telling  some  ladies — and  their 
husbands — (while  seated  in  a  very  cozy  corner  of 
the  aft  deck)  the  difference  between  raising  muf- 
fins in  a  high  altitude  and  raising  hirsute  locks 
on  a  billiard  ball;  Rogers  was  singing  some  pretty 
things  to  a  pretty  girl  from  Spokane,  while  Will- 
iam James,  firmly  braced  against  the  corner  rail- 
ing of  his  seat  on  the  main  deck,  was  an  unwilling 
listener  to  the  cooings  of  a  widow  from  Walla 
Walla.  As  before  stated,  I  was  in  my  stateroom, 
where  I  should  have  been,  at  the  time,  most 
likely  writing  a  prelude  to  this  story.  (Or,  pos- 
sibly, I  was  penciling  a  preamble  to  the  sermon 
that  the  minister  was  to  preach  on  arrival  at 
Cordova.  My  memory  is  greatly  at  fault  now, 
owing  to  the  shock  received.)  At  any  rate,  I  re- 
member what  happened  afterward.  It  was 
about  9:30  in  the  evening,  and  as  Old  Nep  made 
his  first  dive  I  was  precipitated  with  much  force 
and  violence  against  the  bed  railing,  and  as  he 

21 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

dove  back  again  I  felt  myself  flung  against  the 
opposite  wall.  It  seemed  my  feet  couldn't  travel 
fast  enough  to  keep  up  with  my  body,  the  result 
being  that  I  was  recklessly  tossed  hither  and 
thither  until  the  crust  of  my  anatomy  and  my 
wearing  apparel  looked  more  like  a  shredded 
laundry  basket  than  a  human  shell  and  a  coil  of 
clothes.  It's  a  good  thing  my  supper  had  already 
digested.  I  was  being  juggled  about  the  state- 
room much  like  a  fly  in  a  cream  separator  when 
the  door  opened  and  the  Captain's  smiling  face 
intruded: 

"Come  down  to  the  dining  room  and  have  a 
little  spread  with  me,  and  you'll  feel  better,"  he 
said.  "It's  my  birthday,  and  I'm  asking  several 
of  the  passengers  down." 

I  threw  myself  out  the  door  and  tried  to  follow 
him.  It  seemed  really  unnecessary  for  us  to  de- 
scend the  stairs  to  the  dining  room,  as  the  floor 
of  that  room  came  up  to  meet  us  as  we  started 
down.  As  we  all  sat  at  the  Captain's  table  he 
said:  "I  hope  all  twenty-five  of  you  will  have  a 
pleasant  trip,  and  that  this  assembly  of  twenty- 
four  will  be  much  benefited  by  the  voyage.  I 
look  upon  these  twenty- two  smiling  faces  as  a 
father  upon  his  family,  for  I  am  responsible  for 
the  safety  of  this  group  of  seventeen.  I  hope  all 
fourteen  of  you  will  join  me  in  drinking  a  toast  to 
a  merry  trip.  I  believe  that  we  eight  are  most 
congenial,  and  I  applaud  the  judgment  which 
chose  these  three  persons  for  my  table.  You  and 

22 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

I,  my  dear  sir,  are — there,  steward,  clear  away 
and  bring  me  fish."  It  may  safely  be  assumed, 
from  my  behavior  on  this  boat,  that  I  was  not 
the  "my  dear  sir"  referred  to  by  the  captain  (as 
I  didn't  remain  that  long),  nor  the  designer  of 
this  yarn,  either. 

All  next  day  I  lay  in  my  berth — not  well 
enough  to  eat,  and  not  quite  sick  enough  to  die. 
The  members  of  our  party  were  all  better  sailors 
than  I,  for  I  don't  believe  one  of  them  took  sick. 
I  was  just  a  little  sorry,  too,  that  some  of  the 
boys  couldn't  experience  one  of  those  fulsome 
uproars  that  I  felt,  if  only  by  way  of  diversion. 
It  helped  my  feelings  a  little,  however,  when  they 
informed  me  that  the  dining  room  had  very  few 
patrons  that  day. 

On  August  7th,  at  10  a.  m.,  after  something 
like  six  days  on  the  boat  from  Seattle,  we  landed 
at  Cordova.  I  stood  on  deck  watching  the  spec- 
tators at  the  dock,  all  curiously  scrutinizing  the 
passengers,  as  we  were  being  pulled  up  to  the 
pier.  The  Home  Guards,  composed  of  a  score  of 
stalwart,  splendid,  manly  specimens,  stood  on 
the  wharf  to  salute  the  Governor. 

The  man  standing  next  to  me  touched  my 
elbow.  "Do  you  see  that  large  man,  the  third 
from  the  end  in  the  Guards'  line?"  said  he. 
"Well,  that's  Dr.  Council,  the  greatest  bear 
hunter  in  Alaska.  I'll  introduce  you  to  him 
when  we  debark." 

And  he  did,  with  the  result  that  all  our  party 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

met  the  pleasant  doctor,  who  is,  from  the  crown 
of  his  head  to  the  soles  of  his  feet,  an  athlete  and 
a  model  of  imperturbability — 225  pounds  of  non- 
superfluous  avoirdupois  and  over  a  six-footer  in 
height.  I  afterward  remarked  to  Mr.  James 
that  if  I  possessed  that  man's  physique,  his  nerve 
and  his, undoubted  strength,  I  would  turn  bear 
hunter  immediately  and  follow  no  other  occupa- 
tion. At  his  office  he  showed  us  grizzly  skins  that 
he  had  killed — a  short  distance  from  the  Copper 
River  Railroad',  ten  to  one  hundred  miles  from 
Cordova.  These  hides  were  found  in  shades  run- 

J  ning  from  almost  black  to  a  dark  cream,  and 
were  grizzly,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  some 
people  up  there  called  them  "big  brown."  The 
grizzly  evidence  showed  everywhere — in  the  very 
long  fore-claws  (the  big  browns  do  not  have  as 

*  long  fore-claws  as  the  grizzly),  in  the  accent- 
uated shoulder  hump,  in  the  very  small  ears  and 
in  the  silver-tip  hair — with  the  exception  that, 
as  I  now  recall  it,  the  lighter  shades  did  not  show 
this  silver-tip  effect.  However,  I  have  seen 
grizzlies  in  the  States  of  a  pure  creamy  shade  in 
which  the  silver-tip  characteristic  was  entirely 
lacking.  Asked  if  these  were  the  kind  of  bears 
found  in  the  interior,  Dr.  Council  said  he  thought 
there  were  no  other  than  this  phase  to  be  found 
there. 

From  Dr.  Council's  remarks,  and  judging  by 
the  skins  shown  us,  and  from  conversations 
with  others  that  we  met,  both  along  the  coast  and 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

in  the  interior,  I  feel  certain  that  none  of  the 
/  big  brown  bears  are  found  in  the  Upper  Copper 
River  country  nor  on  the  White  River.  That,  of 
course,  would  be  the  natural  supposition  without 
even  visiting  that  section,  as  these  animals,  so 
far,  have  only  been  found  on  the  islands  and 
coastal  strips  of  that  region.  However,  as  I 
write,  a  rumor  has  come  to  me  of  the  presence  of 
big  brown  bears  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Alaska 
range,  near  Mt.  McKinley.  All  naturalists  will 
await  with  interest  a  verification  of  this  report — 
and  if  it  is  verified  a  few  of  us  may  entertain  a 
suspicion  that  the  big  browns  are  hybridizing 
with  the  grizzlies.  While  black  bears  inhabit 
the  country  hunted  by  us  and  that  contiguous 
to  the  Copper  River  as  well,  of  course  we  know, 
but  from  evidence  noted  on  this  trip  I  do  not  be- 
lieve they  are  nearly  so  numerous  as  the  grizzly. 
Asked  how  many  bears  he  had  killed  in  his 
time,  Dr.  Council  said  he  didn't  know.  "How- 
ever," said  he,  "you  can  imagine  how  plentiful 
they  are  around  here  when  I  tell  you  that  out  of 
a  certain  string  of  seven  trips  for  them  from  Cor- 
dova I  killed  a  bear  the  first  day  on  each  of  six 
of  these  trips;  on  the  seventh  I  got  my  bear,  but 
it  took  longer  than  one  day. 

Before  we  left  Denver  I  received  a  letter  from 
Caleb  Corser,  superintendent  of  the  Copper 
River  &  Northwestern  Railway,  advising  me 
that  he  would  gladly  give  our  party  the  use  of 
his  private  car  from  Cordova  to  McCarthy. 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

When  I  received  his  kind  offer  I  didn't  compre- 
hend the  full  significance  of  it,  but  when  we 
entered  that  beautiful  little  car,  with  drawing 
room,  berths,  sleeping  rooms,  containing  real 
brass  beds,  kitchen,  and  a  first-class  Japanese 
cook — and  realized  that  all  of  this  comfort  was 
ours  for  the  two  days'  travel  to  McCarthy  as  a 
guest  of  Mr.  Corser — well,  we  immediately  called 
a  meeting  and  voted  him  the  most  popular  man 
in  Alaska,  bar  none.  As  we  had  plenty  of  room 
in  our  private  car,  we  invited  Governor  Riggs 
and  his  wife,  also  Dr.  Martin,  the  government 
geologist,  to  join  us  as  far  as  Chitina,  their  rail- 
road destination. 

As  we  passed  the  Miles  and  Childs  glaciers,  at 
Mile  50,  lying  on  opposite  sides  of  the  track  a 
mile  or  so  apart,  we  heard  thunderous  concussion 
sounds  that  might  have  been  mistaken  for  can- 
nonading, but  on  looking  out  we  saw  clouds  of 
mist  arising  from  the  end  of  the  Childs  Glacier 
where  an  immense  column  of  ice,  probably  a 
hundred  or  more  feet  high,  had  separated  from 
the  body  of  the  glacier  and  had  gone  crashing 
into  the  Copper  River,  which  flows  along  the  foot 
of  this  glacier.  This  ice  field  is  always  moving, 
and  naturally,  as  it  does  so  the  river  continues 
undermining  its  mouth.  When  the  cavern  made 
by  the  river  gets  too  deep  the  ice  must  fall.  This 
it  is  doing  ceaselessly,  for  during  our  ten-minute 
stop  there  we  heard  two  or  three  more  thunder- 
like  reports. 

26 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

During  the  day  much  interesting  information 
was  imparted  by  our  friends  regarding  Alaska. 
The  theme  was  principally  along  the  line  of  game 
and  game  protection.  We  all  readily  agreed  that 
the  present  paltry  $20,000  annually  allowed 
Alaska  by  the  government  is  utterly  inade- 
quate to  cover  the  expenses  of  the  game  wardens 
and  the  warden  service.  The  way  I  view  the 
matter  is  that  that  territory  is  the  wild-life  nest- 
egg  that  is  to  supply  the  United  States  when  the 
game  down  here  is  all  killed  off,  and  we  should 
furnish  the  money  and  means  to  protect  it  now 
when  the  protecting  is  easier  than  it  will  be  in 
ten  or  twenty  years  from  now.  Wild  game  in 
large  numbers  carries  a  certain  momentum  or 
force  that  is  utterly  lost  when  thinned  down. 
In  other  words,  due  care  and  watchfulness  over 
that  game  now  will  require  not  half  the  effort 
that  it  will  in  twenty  years  hence  when  it  becomes 
decimated.  Not  less  than  $100,000  annually 
should  be  given  Alaska  for  the  protection  of 
her  game,  and  it  pleases  me  greatly  to  acknowl- 
edge the  splendid  recommendation  voiced  by 
the  International  Association  of  Game,  Fish 
and  Conservation  Commissioners  at  its  annual 
meeting  three  years  ago  to  the  effect  that  it 
favors  the  appropriation  by  Congress  of  $100,000 
for  game  protection  in  Alaska. 

The  Copper  River  &  Northwestern  Railway 
was  not  built  for  the  accommodation  of  passen- 
gers, but  by  the  Guggenheim  interests  as  an  ad- 
ay 


IN  THE  ALASKA- YUKON  GAMELANDS 

junct  to  their  big  mine  at  Kennecott,  200  miles 
up  from  Cordova.  Therefore  its  roadbed  is  not 
.  built  on  a  straight-edge  plane  of  smoothness,  nor 
do  its  trains  maintain  a  Lightning  Express 
standard  of  speed.  On  the  contrary,  it  juggles 
along  just  like  many  other  mixed  freight  moun- 
tain railroad  trains  in  the  States,  and  if  during 
the  day's  trip  (it  doesn't  have  a  night  schedule) 
it  rolls  up  twelve  miles  per  hour  it  is  keeping  up 
to  about  what  is  expected  of  it. 

As  we  threaded  our  tortuous  way  up  the  canon 
of  the  Copper  River,  our  attention  was  drawn  to 
a  bar  or  bench  which  followed  the  river  along  the 
opposite  bank  for  several  miles. 

We  noticed  that  it  was  verdure-clad  and  that 
it  bore  a  fair  crop  of  timber;  and  yet  it  was 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  glacial  in  its  formation, 
for,  except  for  the  upper  few  feet  covering  its  sur- 
face, it  was  solid  ice.  We  waited  a  little  longer, 
and  as  we  traveled  parallel  with  the  moraine 
(for  such  it  was),  we  saw  a  perpendicular  cut  in 
the  edge  of  the  bar.  All  the  white  formation 
below  the  top  or  covering  edge  was  pure  ice. 
That  ice  extended  all  along  the  bench  under  the 
soil,  only  that  it  was  covered  where  we  first 
looked  at  it;  but  here  the  water  had  washed  into 
the  "bench,"  exposing  the  ice  that  lay  concealed 
elsewhere  along  its  path. 

An  Indian  village  was  passed,  being  composed 
of  a  few  crude  huts,  some  open  boats  in  the  river 
and  a  half  dozen  or  more  half-naked  and  very 

28 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

unclean  women  and  children.  I  presume  the 
"men-folks"  were  away  fishing  for  salmon,  one 
of  their  chief  occupations. 

One  of  our  party,  reading  from  the  Cordova 
Daily  Herald  of  August  8th,  clipped  the  following 
note  and  handed  it  to  me: 

"Hans  Larson,  a  prospector  on  the  Stewart 
River,  was  severely  mauled  by  a  bear  recently. 
He  was  bending  over  a  piece  of  quartz,  when  the 
bear  attacked  him  from  behind,  tearing  his 
scalp  badly  and  taking  strips  from  his  back  an 
inch  wide  and  two  inches  deep  in  places.  He 
killed  the  bear  with  his  rifle,  and  mushed  ten 
miles  to  another  camp,  where  he  received  surgi- 
cal attention.  He  will  recover,  altho  he  is  very 
weak  from  loss  of  blood." 

"A  very  common  occurrence  up  here,"  re- 
marked one  of  the  members  of  our  party,  when 
he  had  heard  the  piece  read.  "The  present  pro- 
tection should  be  taken  from  the  big  brown  bear 
in  Alaska,  or  at  least  it  should  be  vitally  modi- 
fied." 

I  believe,  considering  the  formidable  build  and 
more  surly  disposition  of  these  big  plantigrades, 
as  contrasted  with  those  of  the  blacks,  and  even 
the  grizzlies  of  the  States,  that  the  present  law 
on  them  could  with  justice  to  all  be  changed.  I 
will  confess  that  I  never  felt  this  way  until  I  had 
hunted  in  that  country,  but  after  talking  with 
the  people  of  Alaska  and  hearing  of  the  natural 
prejudice  up  there  against  these  bears,  I  feel  that 

29 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

a  revision  of  the  present  law  would  not  have  a 
harmful  effect. 

There  has  been  an  average  of  nearly  one  man 
a  year  killed  in  the  North  by  the  big  brown  and 
grizzly  bears,  and  several  a  year  mauled  and 
maimed,  and  I  believe  that  the  time  has  come  to 
act.  My  feeling  for  the  bears  of  the  States, 
where  they  behave  themselves,  is  different,  and 
it  is  that  feeling  which  has  caused  me  to  hold  off 
so  long  on  my  pronouncement  against  the  North- 
ern bears.  I  believe  we  are  justified  now  in  re- 
moving all  protection  from  the  big  browns  and 
grizzlies,  with  the  exception  of  a  $5  or  a  $  10 
export  license  on  the  hides.  In  my  former 
recommendations  concerning  these  animals  I 
have  suggested  a  compromise  by  increasing  the 
bag  limit  south  of  62°,  to  four,  and  increasing  the 
open  season  one  month  above  the  old  period. 
However,  since  these  expressions  were  published 
I  have  been  confronted  with  some  very  vicious 
and  unprovoked  attacks  by  them  on  miners  and 
others,  resulting  in  two  deaths  and  some  maul- 
ings,  and  I  cannot  further  restrain  my  feelings 
that  they  should  go  their  way  unprotected.  It  is 
very  possible  that  ere  this  book  is  published  the 
powers  that  be  will  have  begun  on  some  such 
change  as  I  have  mentioned.  If  such  a  rule  is 
established  it  will  have  my  support,  and,  of 
course,  the  undivided  approval  of  the  Alaskans. 
Dr.  Nelson,  chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Biological 
Survey,  is  in  favor  of  the  plan. 

30 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

Chitina  (population  about  100,  and  lying  132 
miles  from  Cordova)  was  reached  about  6  o'clock 
p.  m.  Here  we  remained  over  night.  From  this 
point  the  automobile  stage  runs  to  Fairbanks — a 
three  days'  trip,  and  the  only  means  of  reaching 
Fairbanks  from  this  Direction.  Malamute  and 
husky  sled  dogs  were  in  evidence  here,  and  the 
cool  mountain  air  and  other  signs  gave  the  place 
a  decidedly  Alaskan  atmosphere. 

I  believe  it  was  at  the  station  preceding  Chi- 
tina on  our  route  that  we  all  had  a  good  opportu- 
nity of  testing  and  comparing  our  binoculars, 
while  the  train  was  being  held  up.  Mr.  Corcoran 
had  a  $200  pair  of  glasses  that  we  all  admired 
very  much,  while  Mr.  James  and  William  carried 
splendid  glasses.  One  of  the  guides  also  had 
glasses,  in  addition,  of  course,  to  the  Alpine  bi- 
noculars that  I  carried.  We  spent  an  hour  there 
of  very  close  study  of  the  different  makes  that 
were  found  in  our  party,  each  one  of  us  trying  out 
all  the  others.  I  have  always  felt  very  well  satis- 
fied with  my  present  binoculars,  which  I  have 
used  for  over  twelve  years,  but  when  I  heard  the 
other  members  of  our  party  comment  on  them  I 
felt  better  than  I  ever  had  before  about  them. 
The  general  verdict  of  all  was  that  they  were 
more  satisfactory  for  game  hunting  than  any 
of  the  others — due  to  the  ease  of  manipulation 
and  the  clearness  and  size  of  the  field.  I  have  in 
later  years  used  an  8-power  glass.  I  should  never 
go  higher  than  this  in  power. 

31 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

Next  morning  at  9  o'clock,  after  bidding  fare- 
well to  Governor  Riggs,  his  wife  and  Dr.  Martin 
(who  were  bound  for  Fairbanks),  we  departed 
by  rail  for  McCarthy — not,  however,  without 
first  inviting  Mr.  Corcoran  and  his  party,  also  a 
Mr.  Davy  of  Denver,  to  join  us  in  the  private 
car,  thereby  filling  the  places  left  vacant  by  the 
first-named  party. 

Aside  from  crossing  a  bridge  that  spanned  a 
gulch  at  a  height  of  238  feet  and  the  sighting  of 
some  goats  (that  later  turned  to  stone)  on  the 
nearby  mountains  by  Rogers  and  William,  the 
trip  to  McCarthy  was  without  incident.  We 
arrived  there  (elevation,  1,440  feet,  250  popula- 
tion, and  189  miles  from  Cordova)  at  2:30  p.  m. 
Cap  Hubrick,  our  guide,  was  the  first  to  meet  us. 
It  seemed  but  the  work  of  two  or  three  hours  to 
get  properly  quartered  at  the  hotel  and  look 
over  and  sort  out  our  hunting  duffel. 

While  we  were  engaged  at  this  very  interesting 
occupation  the  various  members  of  the  working 
end  of  the  "dramatis  personae" — as  Bill  Shakes- 
peare would  put  it — straggled  in.  As  these  men 
had  much  to  do  with  our  hunt,  and  as  their 
names  will  frequently  occur  in  the  references  to 
our  daily  experiences,  I  shall  name  them  in  the 
order  in  .which  we  met  them,  after  first  devoting 
a  paragraph  to  Cap  Hubrick,  our  outfitter. 

Cap  is  a  man  of  62;  five  feet  ten  inches,  190 
pounds,  whose  history,  if  accurately  recorded, 
would  contain  much  of  tragedy,  drama  and  pa- 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

thos.  Colorado,  New  Mexico,  Washington  and 
other  States  claimed  him  as  a  resident  at  various 
times  before  he  went  to  the  Klondike,  twenty 
years  ago.  His  life  has  been  lived  wholly  in  the 
open,  and  he  shows  the  splendid  effect  of  this 
life  in  his  daily  camp  and  hunting  work,  from 
that  of  carrying  a  log  to  camp  to  the  agility  dis- 
played in  climbing  a  mountain.  He  is  one  of  the 
best  shots  at  running  game  with  whom  I  have 
ever  hunted.  Like  many  men  of  the  frontier,  he 
was  pretty  wild  in  his  day,  and  on  a  few  occasions 
got  into  serious  trouble  by  loading  up  on  six- 
shooters  and  bad  whiskey.  However,  Cap 
is  now  a  muchly-settled-down  man,  married,  and 
has  the  prettiest  little  home  in  McCarthy.  He 
once  ran  a  ferry  boat  across  the  Yukon  River  at 
Dawson,  which  accounts  for  his  universally 
known  title  of  "Cap." 

Bill  Longley,  our  head  packer,  altho  tall  in 
stature,  is  not  long  on  adulation,  nor  is  he  strong 
on  secret  treaties  or  imbroglios,  but  believing 
that  attention  to  business  is  the  best  way  to  make 
the  camp  "safe  for  democracy,"  he  wends  his 
placid  way  in  a  manner  commendable  in  a  hunt- 
ing assistant.  I  have  always  found  that  it  is 
hard  enough  to  get  along  in  camp  with  every- 
body when  everyone  tries  to  do  his  bit,  and  this 
Bill  accomplished  without  considering  the  cost 
in  enduring  hardships.  Bill  is  50  years  of 
age,  but  looks  40,  and  understands  the  pack- 
ing game  to  perfection.  I  believe  Bill  would 

33 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

*  rather  cut  off  a  finger  than  commit  a  dishonor- 
able act. 

Billy  Wooden  is  a  twin  brother  to  Bill  Longley 
in  the  feature  of  work.  He  seemed  to  be  a  glut- 
ton for  exercise  and  endurance,  never  waiting 
for  the  next  man  to  wrangle  horses,  wade  cold 
streams  or  travel  the  wet  underbrush.  He  al- 
ways came  up  with  a  smile,  and  never  once  lost 
his  temper  except  when  Shorty  Gwin  crossed 
him.  Billy  is  of  small  stature,  about  40  years 
old,  once  ran  a  roadhouse  on  the  Nizina,  and  is 
thoroly  familiar  with  the  life  of  that  country. 
J  Shorty  Gwin :  Outside  of  Cap,  Shorty  was  the 
greatest  character  in  the  party.  He  also  is  62 
years  old — short,  stocky,  beardy  and  brashy — a 
man  who  is  at  Home  anywhere  in  his  tracks  in 
the  hills;  whose  bed  under  a  drooping  spruce  is  as 
good  to  him  as  one  on  a  box  mattress.  When  he 
cast  off  his  old  clothes  at  the  end  of  the  trip, 
dressed  up  and  shaved,  his  dog  Jimmie  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  him,  but  hung  around 
Cap's  house  like  one  who  had  lost  a  friend.  His 
humor  is  wholesome  and  natural  and  his  stories 
told  of  evenings  were  gems  of  imaginative  concep- 
tion. "Hell!  Where's  my  tobacco?"  from  Shorty 
always  meant  that  a  good  story  was  coming  up. 

Jimmie  Brown,  the  fourth  member  of  the 
packing  force,  like  Shorty,  hadn't  very  aesthetic 
tastes  regarding  his  bed  and  board  while  in  the 
hills.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  these  men  cannot  be 
too  particular  about  anything  while  on  the  trail, 

34 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

as  experience  has  taught  them  that  "readiness 
to  serve"  double  discounts  good  clothes  and 
fancy  grub  while  in  the  open.  Jimmy  could  sleep 
on  less  and  live  on  less  food  while  on  a  "siwash" 
trip  than  anyone  I  have  ever  met.  He  is  a 
small  man,  about  40,  wiry,  quick  and  unobtru- 
sive. Like  Billy  Wooden,  he  is  a  wonderful 
climber — a  human  camel  in  traveling  long  dis- 
tances without  food  or  water.  For  years  he  has 
employed  his  time  at  freighting  between  Mc- 
Carthy and  the  Shushanna  mining  district.  In 
winter  he  uses  dog  sleds  in  this  work,  and  could 
tell  many  a  harrowing  tale  of  hardship,  death 
and  privation  while  traveling  on  the  glaciers 
over  this  route. 

Next  comes  our  little  Jap,  Jimmie  Fujii,  who 
acted  as  cook.  While  a  typical  Japanese  in  man- 
ner and  disposition,  yet  he  has  absorbed  much 
of  American  and  Alaskan  ways  during  the 
twenty-odd  years  that  he  has  been  a  "rolling 
stone"  in  this  country.  First  marrying  in  Japan, 
he  has  had  two  matrimonial  ventures  in  America 
with  white  girls,  but  has  given  up  all  future  ideas 
of  repeating  the  offense  over  here.  He  is  now 
treading  the  path  of  single  blessedness  again,  and, 
being  a  free  man,  travels  when  and  where  he 
pleases,  following  the  avocation  of  cook.  He  is  a 
high  school  graduate,  and  aside  from  being  a 
splendid  cook  is  a  great  student  of  international 
social  problems.  His  morning  call — usually  issued 
at  5:30  a.  m. — "Ho-oh!  Break-fawst !" — still 

35 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

rings  in  my  ears,  and  while  it  was  not  always 
a  pleasant  reminder,  yet  our  later  contact  with 
the  hot  cakes  and  other  fixin's  took  all  the  early 
chill  away. 

That  pent-up  anxiety  to  get  away,  which  had 
been  fermenting  in  our  systems  for  days,  finally 
found  escapement  the  next  afternoon  at  2:30, 
when  the  packers  announced  that  they  were 
"organized"  and  ready  to  start.  It  seemed  that 
half  of  McCarthy's  250  souls  were  congregated 
around  the  vacant  space,  where  the  horses  were 
packed,  to  see  us  depart.  The  sixteen  packs 
were  loaded  with  about  200  pounds  each,  or 
3,200  pounds  total.  After  crossing  the  little 
stream  in  McCarthy's  back  yard  we  were  soon 
strung  out  along  the  roadway  on  the  hillside  that 
overlooks  the  town.  Soon  the  little  village  was 
lost  to  view,  and  automatically  the  wilderness 
opened  its  arms  to  receive  us,  holding  us  fast  for 
the  next  thirty-nine  days.  Four  miles  along  a 
good  wagon  thorofare  led  us  to  the  brink  of  Sour- 
dough Hill;  then  five  miles  over  a  squashy  road 
landed  us  at  Shorty  Gwin's  cabin  on  the  Nizina 
River,  our  abode  for  the  night.  Here  we  said 
good-bye  to  the  wagon  road,  thenceforward  de- 
pending on  trails  and  no-trails,  water,  ice  and 
river  bars  for  our  travel.  The  sun  at  this  time 
was  warm,  the  air  mellow,  and,  aside  from  a 
slight  variation  in  the  foliage,  we  would  hardly 
have  known  that  we  were  not  traveling  along  an 
old  New  Brunswick  tote  road.  The  first  "dif- 

36 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

ferent"  sign  that  we  noted  was  the  presence  of 
the  fireweed,  a  flower  that  grows  a  foot  or  two 
high,  oTpinkish  color,  which  is  seen  at  this  season 
in  such  bounteous  profusion  that  it  actually 
paints  the  meadows  and  hillsides.  Single  gardens 
of  this  flower  covered  spaces  dozens  of  acres  in 
extent,  causing  the  terrene  at  a  distance  to 
appear  as  a  solid  mass  of  "pink. 

The  timber  of  the  country  visited  by  us  in- 
cludes Sitka  spruce  (a  tree  that  I  mistook  for  fir, 
owing  to  the  needles  being  soft-pointed),  balm  of 
gilead  (found  in  abundance),  birch,  alder,  willow 
and  quaking  aspen  (the  latter  very  rarely  seen). 
Among  the  wild  berries  found  thereabouts  were: 
High-bush  cranberries,  low  bush  cranberries, 
black  and  red  currants,  blueberries  (very  plen- 
tiful), salmon  berries  (in  abundance  along  the 
coast),  raspberries,  wolf  berries  and,  of  course, 
roseberries. 

We  awoke  the  following  morning  to  find  our 
horses  missing.  Billy  and  Jimmie  went  in  search 
of  them,  finding  that  they  had  traveled  ten  miles 
up  the  Nizina,  attracted  by  the  pea-vine,  a  low- 
growing,  palatable  and  very  fattening  plant  that 
grows  over  most  of  the  river  bars  of  that  section. 
It  was  therefore  2:30  that  afternoon  before  we 
got  started. 

As  Shorty  is  known  there  as  the  wizard  of  the 
Nizina  River,  he  led  the  way  across  it,  a  treacher- 
ous quicksand  stream  flowing  at  this  time  in 
some  twelve  or  more  channels.  (When  we  re- 

37 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

turned  a  month  later  this  water  had  concentrated 
into  about  three  channels.  It  is  always  chang- 
ing.) Shorty  dwelt  long  and  often  upon  the 
great  requisite  of  being  able  to  "read"  water. 
He  has  lived  on  the  Nizina  so  long  and  has  wit- 
nessed and  been  a  participant  in  so  many  acci- 
dents on  this  stream  that  he  is  recognized  as  the 
most  capable  man  on  that  river  to  lead  a  pack 
outfit  across  it. 

We  had  no  difficulty  in  making  a  successful 
ford,  and  after  following  it  for  six  or  seven  miles 
we  decided  to  camp  at  the  Spruce  Point  Cabin, 
an  old  deserted  shack,  at  one  time  occupied  and 
run  by  Billy  Wooden  as  a  roadhouse.  Our  de- 
cision to  camp  here,  and  not  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Chittistone  (as  originally  planned),  was  greatly 
encouraged  by  a  downpour  of  rain  which  came 
on  us  as  we  were  approaching  the  cabin,  and 
which  kept  up  all  night,  but  in  lessened  volume. 
We  traveled  eight  miles  during  the  afternoon, 
over  a  boggy  trail  in  some  places,  and  over  the 
bar  of  the  river  in' others. 

While  traveling  up  the  Nizina  during  the  day 
Bill  Longley  pointed  to  a  white  speck,  barely 
discernible  on  a  rough  mountain  a  couple  miles 
off  to  our  right.  "That's  a  tent  I  took  up  there 
a  year  ago  for  a  prospector,"  said  he.  "But  it's 
never  been  used,  as  the  'color'  petered  out." 
When  asked  why  it  was  never  taken  down  and 
used,  Bill  said  it  wasn't  worth  the  expense  of  go- 
ing for  it.  And  when  men's  wages  and  horses' 

38 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

hire  are  considered,  it  doesn't  take  a  lightning 
calculator  to  figure  out  how  very  correct  his 
statement  is.  As  an  illustration  of  this  condition 
in  that  country:  A  fine,  large  cooking  range  that 
would  command  $25  or  $30  in  town,  even  at 
second-hand  prices,  lies  unclaimed  in  the  cabin 
where  we  spent  that  night  (only  about  seventeen 
miles  from  McCarthy),  for  the  simple  reason 
that  it  isn't  worth  the  trouble  and  work  of  pack- 
ing it  in. 

Half  concealed  in  the  timber  at  the  side  of  the 
trail  up  the  Nizina  stood  an  old  deserted  cabin 
(as  all  cabins  are  in  this  country).  Some  one 
pointed  it  out  to  us  as  the  roadhouse  that  was 
run  by  B.  S.  Kelly  during  the  Shushanna  gold 
rush  in  1913.  It  is  said  of  him  that  while  running 
this  roadhouse  he  found  himself  on  his  "last 
legs"  financially.  When  a  man  called  to  get  a 
meal,  Kelly  would  ask  him  if  he  had  a  frying  pan 
in  his  outfit.  Of  course  every  prospector  travel- 
ing thru  at  that  time  had  a  frying  pan.  The 
next  question  asked  was,  "Have  you  some 
grease?"  This  was  another  acquisition  usually 
found  in  the  prospector's  pack.  Kelly  would 
then  place  the  skillet  on  the  fire  and  tell  the 
prospector  to  go  out  and  kill  a  rabbit,  remarking 
that  that  would  do  for  his  dinner — for  which  a 
charge  of  $1.50  was  made. 

That  night  some  long-distance  world's  records 
were  broken  in  the  gabfest  that  followed  after 
supper,  and  if  the  shades  of  all  the  departed 

39 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

moose,  sheep,  goats,  caribou,  bears  and  men 
(records  of  whose  slaughter  were  told  most 
vividly)  did  not  appear  to  us  in  our  sleep  that 
night  as  a  protest,  then  it  was  because  they  had 
been  killed  so  dead  that  there  was  no  chance  of 
their  ever  returning  to  earth  again  in  any  form. 
Up  to  that  time  I  had  always  considered  Harry 
a  pretty  good  single-handed  talker,  but  he  was 
entirely  outclassed  by  Cap  and  Shorty  in  their 
recitations  of  old-time  Alaska  experiences.  These 
two  sourdoughs  battled  in  the  oratorical  arena 
for  hours,  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the  contest, 
which  outrivaled  in  gameness  and  ferocity  the 
gladiator  encounters  of  old,  the  bout  was  de- 
clared a  draw. 

Next  day  it  continued  raining,  so  the  contest 
was  resumed,  lasting  all  that  day  and  far  into 
the  night.  Shorty  told  of  once  capturing  a  goat 
alive  in  Alaska,  and  said  they  were  so  tame  and 
plentiful  that  it  would  be  no  trick  at  all  to  repeat 
the  performance  on  this  trip.  Cap  said  he  had 
seen  the  rabbits  so  thick  in  that  country  that 
they  ate  off  all  the  vegetation — in  fact,  these 
rabbits  were  so  numerous  that  finally  they  had 
no  feed  whatever,  so  they  ate  themselves.  Billy 
Wooden  told  of  killing  an  ibex  in  Alaska,  describ- 
ing it  as  a  counterpart  of  the  goat  except  that 
the  front  feet  were  large  and  the  horns  were 
twisted,  containing  ridges  that  ran  in  spiral  fash- 
ion around  the  horn,  as  in  some  of  the  European 
species. 

4° 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

I  was  curiously  interested  in  the  ibex  story, 
especially  as  I  had  heard  from  other  sources  of 
these  animals  having  existed  there.  One  man 
who  vouches  for  their  presence  at  one  time  in 
Alaska  is  ex-Representative  James  Wickersham, 
of  Fairbanks,  with  whom  I  conversed  on  the 
subject. 

However,  Judge  Wickersham,  I  believe,  re- 
ceived his  impressions  more  from  what  he  read 
in  Gen.  T.  A.  Allen's  book,  "Government  Report 
on  the  Copper  River  (Alaska)  Exploring  Expedi- 
tion of  1886,"  than  from  any  personal  experience 
that  he  has  had  with  the  supposed  animals.  I 
have  a  copy  of  General  Allen's  book,  and  publish 
herewith  an  extract  from  it  covering  the  subject, 
as  follows: 

"Whether  the  big-horn  mountain  sheep,  ovis 
canadensis,  exists  in  Alaska  I  am  unable  to  say, 
but  I  desire  to  add  also  a  new  geographical  race 
of  the  same.  The  animal  in  question  is  called  by 
the  natives  tebay,  and  this  name  I  leave  un- 
changed until  a  specimen  will  have  been  carried 
out  of  the  territory.  We  killed  several  of  these 
animals,  one  of  which,  a  ram,  had  horns  twenty 
inches  long  and  nearly  straight.  Their  structure 
was  similar  to  that  of  the  bighorn,  but  the  curva- 
ture was  very  slight.  This  ram  was  killed  on  a 
very  high  point,  such  a  place  as  is  usually  sought 
by  them,  and  in  its  fall  was  sadly  mangled.  The 
head  of  the  tebay  is  much  like  that  of  a  South- 
down sheep,  the  muzzle  much  less  pointed  than 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

in  Nelson's  big-horn.  The  hair  is  of  a  uniform 
white — in  fact,  nearly  equal  to  his  snow  surround- 
ings in  color,  and  is  nearly  as  easily  broken  as 
that  of  the  antelope.  Next  to  the  skin  is  a  very 
fine,  short  wool,  which  is  very  strong.  In  size  the 
tebay  is  probably  an  equal  of  its  relative,  trte  big- 
horn. I  saw  a  spoon  made  from  the  horn  of  one 
that  measured  twenty-six  inches  in  length  and 
five  inches  across  the  bowl.  We  were  informed 
that  some  had  much  larger  horns  than  the  one 
that  furnished  material  for  this  spoon.  This, 
like  most  statements  of  natives,  is  questionable. 
The  large  ram  and  one  other  were  killed  on  the 
most  northerly  tributary  of  the  Chittistone 
River.  The  natives  informed  us  that  small  tebay 
could  be  killed  a  few  miles  below  the  junction  of 
the  Chittistone,  a  fact  we  doubted,  and  hence 
chose  to  allow  them  the  use  of  our  carbines. 
They  passed  the  night  on  the  mountains  north  of 
the  Chitina  River,  and  returned  with  four  small 
ones  that  would  weigh  when  dressed  probably 
sixty-five  pounds.  The  heads  were  left  on  the 
mountains,  but  the  bodies  brought  in  seemed 
identical  with  those  obtained  on  the  Chittistone 
River.  Why  only  small  ones  should  be  found  at 
this  place  in  the  latter  part  of  April  I  cannot  say; 
yet  the  mountains  here  were  not  so  high  as  far- 
ther to  the  east,  where  the  large  ones  had  been 
killed.  The  last  of  these  animals  seen  or  heard  of 
by  us  were  near  the  headwaters  of  Copper  River, 
on  the  divide  between  it  and  the  Tanana  River." 

4* 


ENROUTE  TO  THE  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

At  this  late  day,  of  course  it  seems  odd  to  read 
of  a  doubt  cast  at  the  habitat  of  the  ovis  cana- 
densis^  as  shown  herein  by  General  Allen,  but 
when  one  reflects  that  his  book  was  written  about 
thirty-five  years  ago,  it  is  not  amazing.  It  is 
amusing  to  note  the  two  very  distinct  animals 
described  respectively  by  Billy  Wooden  and  Gen- 
eral Allen.  Billy  Wooden's  animal  of  mystery 
was  distinctly  a  goat,  except  for  the  horn  and 
front  hoof  formation,  while  General  Allen's  was 
a  sheep.  There  could,  of  course,  be  no  connection 
between  the  two  forms,  according  to  the  descrip- 
tions given.  Naturally,  when  we  hear  of  such 
reports,  the  first  thing  that  enters  our  mind  is 
that  no  hunter  has  ever  been  able  to  secure  and 
preserve  one  of  the  skins,  and  secondly,  that  none 
of  these  specimens  has  ever  reached  any  of  the 
many  natural  history  institutes  of  our  country 
that  would  be  so  very  anxious  to  secure  them  at 
a  substantial  cost.  I  believe  I  can  solve  the  Allen 
myth  by  suggesting  that  it  might  be  a  young 
mountain  sheep  ram  or  an  old  female,  with 
slightly  curved  horns.  But  Billy  Wooden's  ibex 
has  simply  got  my  "goat,"  for  I  cannot  fathom 
it.  Rumors  of  ibexes  having  been  seen  in  the 
States  are  very  old.  Other  unnatural  forms  of 
wild  life  have  also  been  reported,  but  when  run 
down  they  have  usually  turned  out  to  be  about 
as  authentic  as  the  stories  of  the  philaloo  bird 
and  the  side-hill  gouger. 


43 


Second  Chapter 


IN  THE 
GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 


THE  PARSON'S  SON 

I'm  one  of  the  Arctic  brotherhood,  I'm  an  old-time  pioneer. 

I  came  with  the  first — O  God!  how  I've  cursed  this  Yukon — but  still 

I'm  here. 
I've  sweated  athirst  in  its  summer  heat,  I've  frozen  and  starved  in 

its  cold ; 
I've  followed  my  dreams  by  its  thousand  streams,  I've  toiled  and 

moiled  for  its  gold. 

Look  at  my  eyes — been  snow-blind  twice ;  look  where  my  foot's  half 

gone; 
And  that  gruesome  scar  on  my  left  cheek,  where  the  frost-fiend  bit  to 

the  bone. 
Each  one  a  brand  of  this  devil's  land,  where  I've  played  and  I've  lost 

the  game, 

A  broken  wreck  with  a  craze  for  "  hooch,"  and  never  a  cent  to  my  name. 

— Robert  Service. 


SECOND  CHAPTER 
IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 


pHE  following  morning  we  started  at  10:30 
•*•  in  a  drizzle,  which  later  cleared.  We  were 
especially  fortunate  that  clear  skies  welcomed 
us  on  the  latter  part  of  the  day's  ride,  as  some 
beautiful  scenery  opened  up,  including  water- 
falls, gorgeous  hills  and  sublime  snowcapped 
summits.  The  grandeur  almost  repaid  for  the 
near-dousing  we  received  that  day  while  cross- 
ing back  over  the  Nizina.  It  seems  the  packs 
were  in  some  unaccountable  way  divided  (some- 
thing which  should  be  avoided,  if  possible); 
at  any  rate,  we  saw  Shorty,  Wooden  and  others 
with  a  contingent  of  packs  crossing  below  us, 
and  the  manner  in  which  the  riders  leaned  down- 
stream told,  if  the  submerged  packs  had  not, 
that  they  were  in  dangerous  water.  Bill  Longley, 
Harry  and  others  (including  myself)  were  in  the 
string  that  crossed  above,  and  for  a  moment  it 
looked  as  if  we  should  encounter  swimming 
water,  as  it  foamed  up  to  the  middle  of  the 
horses'  bodies,  wetting  the  packs  and  ourselves 
as  well.  Swimming  water  in  that  surging  torrent 
hardly  conveys  a  true  meaning  of  the  term  to 

47 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

one  accustomed  only  to  moderate  running  water. 
Besides,  it  is  ice  cold,  coming  from  the  glacier 
but  a  few  miles  away,  and  to  even  get  soaked  in 
it,  with  nothing  worse,  might  mean  a  bad  case  of 
rheumatism;  while  if  one's  horse  should  roll  in 
this  water  there  would  be  an  excellent  chance  of 
a  funeral  at  the  opposite  shore.  The  boys  who 
knew  more  about  glacial  streams  than  we  advised 
us,  should  our  horse  roll,  to  jump  downstream, 
rather  than  up,  as  by  doing  so  we  would  fall 
clear  of  our  horse,  and  being  lighter  would  float 
or  swim  out  of  its  reach;  whereas,  by  jumping 
upstream  we  would  run  the  risk  of  being  sucked 
under  the  horse.  A  man  was  killed  on  the  Nizina 
in  this  way  a  year  before,  his  head  being  crushed 
by  one  of  the  horse's  feet.  In  crossing  these 
streams  (for  there  were  others  as  bad  as  the 
Nizina,  including  the  Frederika  and  White),  we 
always  leaned  downstream,  which  served  to 
brace  the  horse  by  throwing  his  feet  upstream — 
the  very  opposite  effect  of  leaning  upstream  and 
forcing  the  feet  down.  This  is  a  knack  I  had 
learned  while  swimming  our  horses  across  the 
Shoshone  River  in  Wyoming  many  years  ago 
while  bear  hunting  with  Ned  Frost,  and  I've 
never  forgotten  it.  At  first  it  sounds  almost  un- 
reasonable, as,  if  we  were  fording  such  a  stream 
on  foot  we  would  lean  up,  but  on  horseback  the 
conditions  are  reversed. 

Many  brave  men  lose  their  lives  in  this  wild 
country  every  year  from  a  variety  of  causes. 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

Most  of  them  become  so  hardened  to  the  weather 
and  privations  that  they  can  endure  almost  un- 
believable trials  on  the  trail.  We  were  told  of 
one  man  and  his  dog  team  who,  a  few  years  ago, 
subsisted  for  ten  days  on  rabbits  alone,  while 
camped  in  a  tent  on  Nizina  Glacier.  Freighters, 
prospectors  and  others  frequently  get  caught  on 
the  glaciers  in  mid-winter  in  a  blizzard  and  are 
compelled  to  camp  until  it  is  over,  as  in  that  in- 
tense winter  climate,  with  a  twenty-five  or 
thirty  mile  wind  blowing,  there  is  no  human  that 
could  withstand  the  cold,  piercing  wind  while 
traveling. 

Dozens  of  graves  in  sequestered  spots  dot  the 
banks  of  these  streams,  mute  testimony  to  the 
severity  of  the  Alaska  winters.  Seldom  more 
than  a  very  few  people  know  where  these  men 
are  buried,  as,  when  found,  whether  dead  or 
dying,  there  is  usually  but  few  in  the  discovering 
party  (more  often  but  one)  and  very  likely  it  is 
necessary  to  make  haste  with  the  obsequies  in 
order  to  save  their  own  lives;  so  the  body  is  laid 
to  rest  usually  in  a  fern-clad  or  pine-decorated 
spot,  with  a  blaze  on  a  near-by  tree  on  which 
pencil  or  pen  marks  (soon,  of  course,  obliterated) 
are  placed,  telling  the  man's  name,  if  known,  and 
the  date  of  the  burial.  As  most  of  these  graves 
are  off  the  trail  (which  changes  almost  yearly  in 
most  cases)  it  may  easily  be  understood  how  few 
of  them  are  known  to  the  average  passer-by. 
We  passed  one  such  grave,  that  of  Captain  Tay- 

49 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

lor,  who  was  frozen  to  death  while  necking  a 
hand  sleigh  across  Nizina  Glacier  in  February, 
1914. 

Cap  related  the  tragic  death  of  a  musher  three 
years  ago:  "Two-Much"  Johnson  and  Fred 
Youngs  were  freighters  between  McCarthy  and 
Shushanna,  the  gold  camp.  Returning  to  Mc- 
Carthy with  their 'big  Yukon  River  sled  pulled 
by  sixteen  dogs,  they  came  to  the  Shushanna 
Glacier.  This  ice  field  was  a  very  dangerous  one 
to  cross  in  the  spring  owing  to  its  great  number 
of  crevasses.  When  covered  with  snow  a  foot  or 
two  deep  a  man  has  to  be  very  careful.  The 
snow  bridges  over  the  crevasses  and  makes  some 
of  the  narrow  ones  hard  to  see.  The  men  had 
stopped  their  sled  to  go  ahead  and  "sound"  out 
the  snow-covered  crevasses  with  alpenstocks, 
when  the  dogs  began  fighting.  A  dog  fight  out  of 
the  harness  is  ordinarily  a  very  much  mixed-up 
affair,  but  when  these  fighting  "wolves"  of  the 
North  tangle  up  in  a  tooth  battle  with  the  har- 
ness on,  the  mix-up  is  about  as  hard  to  straighten 
out  as  a  string  puzzle.  Finally  after  they  got 
cleared,  they  were  started;  but,  wrought  up  by 
their  late  fighting,  the  dogs  were  very  nervous 
and  erratic,  and  at  one  point  tried  to  jump  over 
a  crevasse  before  their  masters  were  ready  for 
them.  These  crevasses  in  many  places  had  to  be 
bridged  over  by  the  men  chopping  off  the  ice  of 
the  sides  with  picks  until  the  crack  filled,  thereby 
making  a  safe  trail  over  the  opening.  However, 

5° 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

in  this  case,  the  dogs  broke  away  and  ran  head- 
long into  the  crevasse.  Only  the  first  eight  of 
the  sixteen  fell  in,  but  their  weight  on  the  har- 
ness was  too  much  and  it  broke,  letting  them 
down.  "Too-Much"  Johnson,  in  trying  to  get 
the  dogs  straightened  out,  fell  in  also.  Some  of 
these  cracks  are  hundreds  of  feet  deep  and 
Youngs  felt  something  must  be  done  quickly  if 
his  partner  was  to  be  saved.  So  he  hurried  to 
the  relief  camp  (a  camp  the  freighters  maintain 
on  or  near  these  glaciers  where  men  and  means 
are  kept  to  render  assistance  in  such  cases). 
Returning  with  men,  axes,  picks,  ropes  and  every 
appurtenance  necessary,  they  began  the  search 
for  Johnson.  They  worked  along  this  crevasse 
and  down  it  (by  lowering  men  with  ropes)  all 
that  day  and  during  the  whole  night — using 
"bugs,"  or  electric  lights — but  no  trace  of  the 
man  could  be  found.  When  dawn  broke  they 
detected  a  dark  object  a  half  mile  away  climbing 
over  the  top  of  the  crevasse.  They  ran  up  and 
found  it  was  Johnson,  who  barely  had  strength 
to  drag  himself  over  the  top,  where  he  lay  ex- 
hausted. They  found  both  hands  and  part  of  his 
face  frozen  and  the  fingers  worn  almost  to  stubbs 
in  trying  to  climb  up  over  the  icy  sides.  They 
wrapped  him  up  carefully,  laid  him  on  the  sled 
and  started  for  McCarthy,  but  before  they 
reached  the  town  he  expired — thereby  offering 
up  another  life — the  supreme  toll — to  the  fas- 
cinating but  uncertain  life  of  the  frozen  North. 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

During  the  winter  of  1919-20  Jimmy  Brown 
(our  indomitable  little  guide  and  glacier  trail 
blazer)  and  Dan  Campbell  experienced  a  dis- 
tressful misfortune  while  dog-sledding  in  that 
country.  The  first  report  that  I  received  of  it 
came  from  Cap  Hubrick,  our  outfitter,  in  the 
following  letter: 

"McCarthy,  Alaska,  Jan.  29,  1920 

"Joe  McClelland  and  Bill  Maher  (Shushana 
mail  carriers)  came  in  today  with  dog  teams, 
bringing  in  Jimmie  Brown  and  Dan  Campbell 
in  a  badly  frozen  condition.  Brownie  and  Camp- 
bell left  the  head  of  the  White  River  early  this 
month  for  McCarthy  with  a  seven-dog  team  and 
got  along  all  right  until  they  undertook  to  cross 
the  Nizina  Glacier  in  a  fierce  blizzard  (which  was 
very  foolish  of  them).  When  they  reached  a 
point  about  two  miles  from  McLeod's  (where  we 
camped  when  you  were  hunting  with  us),  they 
got  into  a  deep  ice  ravine  and  followed  this  down 
the  glacier  until  it  became  so  steep  on  either  side 
that  they  could  not  get  out,  and  the  dogs  refused 
to  go  back  against  the  strong  wind.  It  got  dark 
on  them  and  the  only  thing  they  could  do  was  to 
get  into  their  sleeping  bags  to  keep  from  freezing. 

"During  the  night  they  began  to  realize  that 
they  were  slowly  but  surely  freezing  to  death,  so 
they  began  to  fight  for  life,  and  when  it  became 
light  enough  to  see  to  travel  they  made  a  start. 
The  dogs  had  all  perished  except  one,  and  he 

5* 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

would  not  leave  his  dead  companions.  They 
were  compelled  to  abandon  everything;  could  not 
even  take  their  snowshoes.  The  wind  was  blow- 
ing so  hard  that  it  was  impossible  to  stand  up  on 
the  ice  where  the  snow  had  blown  away.  All 
they  did  take  was  their  camp  axe.  That  day 
they  reached  the  homestead  cabin  in  the  timber 
a  short  way  below  the  glacier,  and  here  they  lay 
for  sixteen  days  without  food  or  blankets, 
Brownie  being  utterly  helpless  and  Campbell 
creeping  around  on  hands  and  knees  getting  fuel 
to  keep  from  freezing.  Yesterday  McClelland 
and  Maher  found  them  in  this  condition  and 
brought  them  to  town  today.  Brownie  will  lose 
part  of  one  foot  and  some  ringers.  The  flesh  is 
dropping  from  his  hands  now.  His  face  and 
neck  are  black  and  an  awful  sight.  Campbell 
will  lose  part  of  both  feet.  They  will  be  crippled 
for  life,  and  the  awful  suffering  they  will  go  thru 
for  some  time  to  come  will  be  heart-rending." 

Two  months  later,  when  "Brownie"  had  re- 
covered sufficiently  to  dictate  a  letter,  he  wrote 
me  as  follows: 

"Dan  Campbell  and  I  left  Shushana  (a  mining 
camp  about  100  miles  from  McCarthy)  Jan- 
uary 2nd  with  a  seven-dog  team,  and  made 
fairly  good  progress  until  we  reached  White 
River.  Here  we  were  storm-bound  for  three 
days,  when  we  made  a  trip  onto  the  Russell 
Glacier,  but  were  compelled  to  return  to  timber 

53 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

on  account  of  the  severe  storms.  The  following 
day  we  made  another  attempt,  and  after  we  were 
out  on  the  glacier  about  four  miles  we  were  com- 
pelled to  drop  one  of  our  dog  sleighs,  and  by 
sheer  doggedness  we  managed  to  reach  the  relief 
cabin  at  the  head  of  the  Russell  Glacier  late  at 
night.  The  next  day  we  went  back  after  the 
other  sled  and  the  weather  seemed  to  have  mod- 
erated a  little,  but  turned  bitter  cold  towards 
evening. 

"  The  next  day  we  made  another  start  for  the 
Frederika  relief  cabin,  which  is  located  in  the 
willows  just  south  of  the  creek  where  the  trail 
crosses  the  Frederika  stream.  Between  the 
Skolai  Basin  and  this  cabin  we  barely  averted 
disaster  in  crossing  one  of  the  deep  cuts.  We 
started  a  snowslide,  above  which  we  happened 
to  be,  but  if  we  had  been  on  it  or  below  it  I  am 
sure  our  troubles  would  have  ended  then  and 
there.  Nothing  could  have  lived  in  this  slide. 
But  we  reached  the  cabin  without  any  further 
adventures  and  slept  like  only  those  who  have 
had  plenty  of  outdoor  exercise  can  sleep. 

"It  was  storming  hard  the  following  morning, 
but  as  the  wind  was  to  our  backs  and  being  shel- 
tered by  the  mountains  on  either  side,  we  con- 
cluded to  make  a  start  and  go  as  far  as  was 
possible  so  long  as  we  had  timber  to  camp  in  at 
night.  We  followed  the  canon  and  it  was  mighty 
hard  going  all  the  way — snow  drifted  badly  in 


54 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

places  and  lots  of  open  water,  often  breaking 
thru  the  thin  ice,  which  made  progress  slow. 

"About  2  o'clock  we  reached  Skolai  Lake  at 
the  Nizina  Glacier.  Here  we  struck  very  hard 
going,  the  snow  being  quite  deep  and  soft.  Still 
we  thought  we  could  make  it  across  to  timber. 
After  some  time  of  wallowing  in  the  snow  we 
began  to  realize  that  we  were  up  against  the  real 
thing,  but  it  was  too  late  to  turn  back.  We 
were  now  getting  the  winds  from  the  Nizina  and 
Skolai  so  hard  that  they  could  not  be  faced. 
Our  only  salvation  was  to  keep  going.  We  had 
to  get  off  the  lake  and  onto  tne  glacier  and  go 
quartering  across  so  as  to  keep  out  of  the  worst 
of  the  crevasses;  yet  we  encountered  a  number 
of  them  and  passed  thru  the  worst  places  when 
darkness  overtook  us  and  this,  of  course,  stopped 
further  progress  for  the  day.  We  judged  the 
wind  was  blowing  about  seventy  miles  per  hour. 
By  setting  up  our  snowshoes  against  the  back  of 
the  sled  and  bringing  a  tarp  around  them,  we 
had  some  sort  of  a  wind-break;  then  we  took  one 
robe  and  spread  this  on  the  ice  to  sit  on  and  drew 
another  robe  over  us.  In  this  way  we  spent  a 
very  unpleasant  night.  No  matter  how  we 
tucked  and  fixed  the  covering  robe  the  snow 
would  drift  in,  and  then  our  bodies  would  melt 
it,  and  in  this  way  we  got  wet,  and  when  it  be- 
came light  enough  to  see  to  travel  we  made  a 
start  for  timber,  which  was  about  two  miles  dis- 


55 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

tant,  leaving  everything.  Being  compelled  to 
face  the  wind  in  order  to  get  back  up  on  the 
higher  ice  and  out  of  the  crevasses,  the  dogs 
would  not  follow. 

"Our  clothes,  moccasions  and  mittens  were 
wet.  We  had  no  more  than  got  out  of  our  robes 
before  our  clothing  was  frozen  stiff.  My  parka 
bulged  out  in  front  and  froze  as  hard  as  a  board. 
Every  time  I  took  a  step  my  foot  would  hit  the 
bottom;  then  the  top  would  hit  me  in  the  face; 
this  cut  like  a  knife,  until  my  face  looked  like  a 
butcher's  block.  Campbell  thought  I  was  bleed- 
ing at  the  lungs  and  really  was  worried  about 
me.  Of  course,  he  told  me  this  later. 

"Where  the  snow  had  blown  off  it  made  it  im- 
possible to  stand  up.  Often  we  had  to  crawl  or 
roll  along  these  places.  We  at  last  reached  the 
old  barn  beside  the  glacier  (at  McLeod's),  where 
we  got  a  fire  started,  but  it  was  impossible  to 
thaw  out  here.  The  wind  was  blowing  so  hard 
we  had  to  beat  it  down  to  the  old  cabin  called 
the  Homestead,  distance  about  four  miles.  I 
knew  that  my  hands  and  feet  were  frozen  and 
that  Campbell's  feet  were  also  frozen,  but  it  was 
no  use  to  idle  along.  There  was  but  one  thing  to 
do,  and  that  was  to  get  to  the  cabin  and  start  a 
fire  and  save  as  much  as  possible  of  our  hands 
and  feet.  We  had  left  our  snowshoes,  and  this 
made  it  harder  for  us,  as  the  snow  was  about 
three  feet  deep,  and  I  judge  it  took  us  at  least 
two  hours  to  make  this  four  miles. 

56 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

"On  reaching  the  cabin  I  was  helpless,  both 
hands  badly  frozen,  so  I  could  not  even  help 
start  a  fire.  Campbell  was  more  fortunate,  he 
having  two  good  hands,  but  his  feet  were  very 
bad,  and  by  hobbling  around  he  managed  to 
start  a  fire  and  then  we  began  to  take  stock  of 
ourselves  and  also  of  the  contents  of  the  cabin. 

"Here  I  wish  to  say  that  we  can  thank  Joe 
McClelland  and  Bill  Maher  that  we  are  alive  to- 
day, by  having  the  cabin  in  a  fairly  warm  con- 
dition, and  wood  enough  to  do  us  over  night; 
there  was  also  some  flour,  rice  and  dog  feed  here. 
The  thermometer  registered  60  below  zero  and 
the  winds  howled  on  the  glaciers.  We  did  not 
know  how  long  it  would  be  before  we  might  be 
rescued  by  some  one  coming  along. 

"Sixteen  days  of  watchful  waiting  we  spent  in 
this  cabin,  looking  for  Joe  and  Bill,  who  were 
carrying  the  mail,  but  they  likewise  had  en- 
countered severe  storms  and  were  delayed. 
They  arrived  about  2:30  in  the  afternoon  and 
were  pretty  tired.  Of  course  they  did  everything 
they  could  to  make  us  comfortable,  and  the  fol- 
lowing day  they  went  back  after  our  outfit. 
They  found  one  dog  alive  and  three  frozen  to 
death.  The  other  three  had  disappeared.  No 
doubt  they  tried  to  go  back  to  Shushana.  Since 
then  one  of  the  three  has  showed  up  at  Solo 
Creek;  the  other  two,  no  doubt,  have  died. 

"The  next  day  we  started  for  McCarthy  and 
here  we  are.  I  expect  to  be  able  to  get  around 

57 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

by  the  time  the  hunting  season  opens,  but  will 
not  be  able  to  walk  enough  to  do  any  guiding  in 
the  hills,  but  if  I  can  get  a  party  to  take  out  I 
will  do  the  wrangling  and  help  around  the  camp 
and  do  all  I  can.  By  next  year  I  expect  to  be 
able  to  go  some.  If  my  horses  live  thru  the  win- 
ter I  will  be  pretty  lucky.  All  the  other  horses 
in  that  country  have  died  this  winter. 

BROWNIE." 

Five  o'clock  of  the  evening  of 
saw  us  in  camp  at  the  scene  of  the 
Road  House  (the  same  stopping  place  that 
"Brownie"  refers  to  in  his  letter),  after  traveling 
sixteen  miles  from  Spruce  Point.  The  road 
house  was  hardly  fit  for  occupancy,  so  we  put 
up  the  tents — their  initial  appearance  in  service 
on  Alaska  soil. 

Next  morning  we  were  up  at  5  for  our  first  big 
game  hunting — goats — and  at  7:20  all  departed 
for  Rhinoceros  Peak  (also  called  Finger  Moun- 
tain), via  Nizina  and  Regal  glaciers.  We 
covered  six  miles  on  horseback  going  to  our 
hunting  country,  all  on  these  glaciers. 

Never  have  I  witnessed  a  more  beautiful  sight 
than  that  which  greeted  us  as  we  filed  along  on 
the  surface  of  the  white  ice  that  clear  morning. 
The  clouds  had  not  all  lifted  from  the  highest 
peaks,  whose  dark  promontories  stood  half- 
sheathed  in  their  filmy  gowns  of  billowy  mist. 
Finger  Mountain  was  thrice-attractive  because 


00 
00 

'5 
U 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

only  his  black-pointed  crest  was  visible,  like  a 
floating  buoy,  above  the  feathery  sea  of  encir- 
cling clouds. 

As  this  was  our  first  glacier  travel  we  felt  very 
much  that  timidity  one  would  experience  in 
walking  on  eggs,  fearing  our  horses  might  slip  on 
the  treacherous  ice,  which  was  interwoven  with 
crevasses  and  pot-holes,  ridges  and  gullies. 
Solid  terra  firma  we  had  all  found  dangerous 
enough  at  times,  but  this  glacier  traveling  the 
first  hour  of  that  first  day  was  the  most  ticklish 
thing  we  had  experienced  in  many  moons. 
After  that  we  took  it  with  steadier  assurance, 
and  didn't  feel  thrilly  any  more.  As  every  horse 
in  the  outfit  had  been  sharp-shod  at  McCarthy 
before  leaving,  we  finally  settled  down  to  a  regu- 
lar sourdough  form  of  contentment  and  took 
every  slip,  slide  and  skate  as  a  matter  of  course, 
trying  to  think  of  these  hair-breadth  escapes 
from  instant  death  (as  they  sometimes  appeared 
to  us)  as  the  ordinary  events  of  a  hunting  trip  in 
the  Far  North. 

Just  the  same,  if  any  of  my  readers  believes 
that  an  Alaska  glacier  is  anything  resembling  a 
boulevard  or  skating  rink  in  smoothness  you 
should  be  disillusioned;  for  there  are  moun- 
tains, peaks,  valleys  and  canons  on  the  glacier — 
all  on  a  small  scale,  it  is  true,  but  they  are  there 
in  as  varied  projection  and  dejection  as  in  a 
range  of  the  rockiest  mountains.  The  glacier 
surface  is  serrated  with  little  streamlets;  cracks 

59 


IN  THE  ALASKA- YUKON  GAMELANDS 

and  crevasses,  the  former  running  from  an  inch 
in  width  to  from  five  to  ten  feet — crevasses  the 
same.  Some  pot  holes  and  crevasses  extend 
down  thru  the  ice  hundreds  of  feet.  The  horses 
used  on  the  glacier  trail  are  as  proficient  at  this 
work  as  are  the  range  riding  horses  in  the  roping 
game.  They  have  all  had  their  falls  on  the  ice, 
their  slips,  slides  and  rolls,  and  they  know  as  well 
as  a  man  does  what  places  are  dangerous. 

While  crossing  a  stream  in  the  glacier  this  day 
one  of  our  horses  slipped  and  fell,  landing  be- 
tween two  ice  ridges  in  the  bottom  of  a  "draw" 
almost  on  his  back.  By  chopping  away  the  ice 
on  each  side  of  the  crack  he  was  able  to  rise. 
While  taking  a  short  rest  after  this  experience, 
the  beauty  of  the  scene  before  us  was  reflected 
again  thru  mention  of  it  by  Harry,  who  pro- 
nounced it  a  real  memory-jewel.  On  account  of 
the  unusual  lighting  effect  produced  by  the  clear- 
ing of  the  storm,  I  doubt  if  many  other  travelers 
crossing  this  glacier  will  ever  again  be  treated  to 
just  such  a  kaleidoscopic  display  of  colors  as  we 
witnessed.  Many  shades  each  of  green,  blue  and 
purple  appeared  in  each  crevasse  and  pot-hole. 
In  the  perspective,  extending  for  miles,  was  seen 
the  green-white  expanses  of  mountain  and  plain 
in  miniature,  the  sun's  rays  dancing  on  the  shim- 
mering corrugations  and  casting  shadows  inter- 
mittently on  the  glass-like  iridescence. 

In  the  background,  like  a  sentinel  guarding 
the  wave  of  ice,  stood  the  bold  summit  (Finger 

60 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

Mountain)  on  which  we  were  to  hunt  the  oream- 
nos  montanus  today.  As  we  approached  this 
mountain,  various  "goats"  were  pointed  out  by 
different  members  of  our  party.  Usually,  on 
closer  inspection,  they  turned  out  to  be  either 
white  rocks  or  patches  of  snow.  One  party  per- 
sisted in  his  belief  that  if  a  certain  object  was 
not  a  live  goat  it  certainly  was  a  dead  one. 
Rocks  turned  into  goats  with  the  rapidity  of 
lightning.  There  was  hardly  a  man  who  hadn't 
some  pet  snow  spot  or  rock  that  he  tried  to  bring 
to  life  with  the  glasses. 

Cap  and  others  picked  out  some  goats  on  one 
of  the  higher  mesas,  and  these  proved  to  be  the 
only  goats  seen  from  the  glacier.  Finally  we 
approached  the  "shore-line,"  climbed  onto  solid 
earth,  left  the  horses  on  a  good  feeding  ground  in 
charge  of  Jimmie  Brown,  and  began  the  ascent 
of  the  mountain.  William  James,  Rogers,  Bill 
Longley  and  Billy  Wooden  bore  to  the  right, 
while  Harry,  Cap  and  I  took  to  the  left.  After 
ascending  1 ,000  feet,  we  heard  some  ten  or  twelve 
shots,  and  looking  down,  saw  William  pointing 
toward  the  mountain.  We  feared,  however,  that 
he  hadn't  scored.  Soon  afterward  we  saw  a  band 
of  seventeen  goats  stringing  away  to  the  west- 
ward, some  hundreds  of  feet  above  us,  presum- 
ably frightened  by  William's  shooting. 

We  climbed  higher,  ate  lunch,  and  then  mov- 
ing still  higher  counted  thirty-three  goats  strung 
out  on  the  trail  to  the  rear  of  and  following  the 

61 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

seventeen  that  had  just  passed.  They  were 
about  a  mile  away  and  separated  from  us  by  a 
couple  of  divides.  Later  we  walked  out  to  the 
rim  of  the  precipice  that  dropped  below  and  saw 
William  a  short  distance  down  the  hill.  He  said 
he  connected  with  his  goat,  all  right,  but  that  it 
hadn't  yet  shed  its  hair,  and  issued  a  warning 
that  the  other  boys  had  advised  us  not  to  shoot 
any  more  as  the  goats  weren't  yet  "clean." 
This  puzzled  us  greatly,  and  especially  Cap,  who 
said  that  goats  always  shed  in  June.  Notwith- 
standing William's  advice,  we  started  again  to 
climb  up,  hoping  to  get  a  close-up  look  at  some 
others — possibly  those  that  we  had  seen  from  the 
glacier.  My  limbs  began  to  cramp  so  badly  that 
I  decided  to  remain  back.  Half  an  hour  after 
Harry,  William  and  Cap  had  disappeared  over 
the  rim  above  I  heard  rifle  shots  in  their  direc- 
tion. Jumping  to  my  feet,  unable  to  overcome 
the  hunting  curiosity  that  sometimes  seizes  us, 
I  clambered  to  the  top  toward  them. 

Glancing  to  the  westward  I  counted  twenty 
goats  moving  away — trailing  up  a  hill  at  a  dis- 
tance of  half  a  mile,  like  silent  marching  soldier 
specters.  They  seemed  not  the  least  excited, 
but  determined  and  imperturbable.  To  me 
there  is  something  patriarchal  in  the  appearance 
of  a  goat,  and  as  they  lined  out  on  that  trail  they 
formed  a  picture  solemn  and  reverential. 

I  believe  in  one  of  the  above  paragraphs  I  men- 
tioned rifle  shots.  I  imagine  the  reader  will  begin 

62 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

to  think  it  is  time  something  was  doing  in  the 
firing  line,  after  the  long  wait  for  active  hos- 
tilities. He  will  also  want  to  know  what  kind  of 
shooting  irons  each  member  of  the  party  carried, 
and  before  any  blood  is  spilt  I  believe  I'd  better 
give  out  this  information:  Harry  James  carried 
one  .35  Remington  auto  and  one  .30  U.  S.  Win- 
chester; William  James"  had  a  duplicate  of  his 
father's  order;  Rogers  carried  a  .303  Savage; 
Hubrick  a  .250—3000  Savage,  while  I  took  two 
guns  of  the  .30  U.  S.  Winchester  make,  one  bored 
for  the  '03  shell  and  the  other  for  the  '06.  One 
of  the  guides  had  a  .35  Winchester,  while  another 
toted  a  gun  the  make  and  caliber  of  which  I  have 
forgotten. 

On  reaching  the  "bench"  above,  a  quick  sur- 
vey disclosed  four  white  spots  lying  in  various 
positions  of  disorder  200  or  300  yards  ahead  of 
me,  and  kneeling  at  one  of  these  and  in  the  act 
of  evisceration  were  seen  Harry  and  Hubrick. 
William  was  running  wild-eyed  in  search  of  a 
crippled  lamb.  About  all  I  could  hear  from  him 
in  passing  me  was  an  uncomplimentary  remark 
concerning  some  one.  •  I  afterward  learned  that 
his  reference  was  to  Hubrick,  who  had  fired  at 
the  goats  before  giving  Harry  a  first  chance.  In 
this  he  committed  a  grievous  mistake,  as  James 
was  naturally  entitled  to  not  only  the  first  shot, 
but  to  all  if  he  wanted  them. 

While  my  talk  with  Harry  drew  out  no  com- 
plaint with  regard  to  the  manner  in  which  the 

63 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

battle  started  or  terminated,  yet  I  drew  from  his 
manner  that  it  was  not  staged  exactly  according 
to  Marquis  of  Queensbury  rules.  He  told  me 
that  of  the  four  goats  stretched  out  before  us, 
Cap  had  killed  three  and  he  one  out  of  a  band  of 
twenty-four;  furthermore,  that  Cap  had  opened 
fire  on  them  first  at  a  distance  of  sixty  yards, 
killing  a  nanny,  a  3-year-old  and  a  kid;  Harry 
killed  a  nanny  as  she  scrambled  over  the  green 
sward  in  her  effort  to  get  away. 

As  we  needed  another  lamb,  and  as  a  small 
band  comprising  a  lamb  was  at  that  time  hover- 
ing around  the  precipices  500  feet  above  and 
half  a  mile  away,  I  decided  to  try  for  it  while  my 
companions  finished  the  dressing  of  those  already 
killed.  On  my  way  up  I  noticed  a  lone  goat  in 
the  ledges  above  the  others  that  I  was  stalking, 
he  having  been  seen  by  me  in  the  same  position 
an  hour  or  two  before.  Evidently  he  was  an  old 
billie,  as  he  acted  different  in  remaining  alone 
than  I  thought  a  nanny  would.  My  path  in 
stalking  the  group  containing  the  lamb  led  me 
straight  toward  the  billie,  who  was  higher  than 
they  and  400  yards  farther  away.  I  didn't  use 
the  glasses  on  him,  and  he  was  so  far  away  that  I 
couldn't  tell  the  sex.  While  sneaking  on  the 
small  band  (which  were  nervously  running  back 
and  forth,  but  hidden  at  times  from  my  sight 
by  a  shoulder  of  the  mountain),  I  had  not 
thought  seriously  of  trying  for  him,  yet  when 
later  the  little  bunch  disappeared,  as  per  gun 

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IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

signal  from  Harry,  who  with  Cap  stood  below 
watching  the  proceedings,  I  decided  I  would 
make  a  try  for  the  old  goat's  hide.  It  was  im- 
possible to  keep  out  of  sight  of  him,,  and  just 
about  as  difficult  to  travel  in  any  but  a  straight 
line  toward  him.  Therefore  I  had  small  hopes 
of  his  ever  standing  for  me  until  within  range. 
The  climbing  was  very  steep,  necessitating  fre- 
quent rests,  yet  that  old  mountaineer  stood  still, 
apparently  eyeing  me  with  but  little  concern. 
It  was  a  novelty  in  game  hunting  to  see  an 
animal  act  this  way.  I  imagine  that  there  is 
something  to  the  statement  made  later  by  one 
of  the  guides  that  when  they  are  above  you  and 
in  the  cliffs  as  this  one  was,  they  feel  more  secure. 
Certainly  if  he  had  been  a  hundred  miles  above 
me  he  couldn't  have  acted  more  contented. 

Finally  after  many  waits  to  rest  I  reached  a 
point  beyond  which  I  feared  to  go,  and  which  I 
thought  was  about  400  yards  from  him.  Harry, 
always  complimentary  in  his  remarks,  was  good 
enough  to  say  it  was  500  yards.  I  knelt  down 
and  took  aim,  noting  that  the  front  sight  more 
than  covered  him.  When  I  fired  I  noticed  the 
spatter  of  the  bullet  on  the  ledge  a  foot  or  two 
aoove  and  that  it  threw  rock  splinters  all  around 
him.  He  started  to  run  to  the  right,  then  came 
back  the  other  way,  and  finally  stood  for  the 
second  shot.  As  soon  as  I  fired,  I  knew  I  hit  him, 
as  there  was  no  sound  in  the  rocks  and  no  shower 
of  them  as  before.  He  walked  a  few  steps  and 

65 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

laid  down,  then  collapsed  and  rolled  off  the  ledge, 
bounding  over  several  precipices  in  his  drop. 

I  shouted  so  Harry  and  Cap  would  know,  but 
this  was  unnecessary  as  they  had  watched  the 
whole  stalk  from  start  to  finish  and  gave  back  a 
welcoming  cheer.  I  couldn't  see  him  after  he 
landed,  as  he  lay  in  a  gulch  hidden  by  sharp 
projections,  but  I  knew  he  was  too  far  away  and 
too  hard  to  reach  for  me  to  go  and  disembowel 
him.  Cap  had  warned  us  before  that,  in  order 
to  get  safely  across  the  glacier  by  dark,  it  would 
be  necessary  to  descend  the  mountain  and  reach 
the  horses  by  4  o'clock — and  it  was  now  past  4. 

We  reached  the  horses  just  before  6,  having 
joined  another  contingent  of  our  party  on  the 
way  down  the  mountain.  Rogers  was  very  weak, 
having  gone  without  lunch.  We  had  warned 
him  that  he  would  need  it  on  such  a  hard  climb, 
but  with  an  indifferent,  "Oh,  I  never  eat  lunch 
in  the  hills,"  he  sauntered  away  without  the 
mid-day  snack.  But  we  all  noticed  that  our 
taxidermist  not  only  always  carried  a  lunch  after 
that,  but  that  he  ravenously  devoured  it  as  well. 
After  joining  the  rest  of  our  party  we  learned  that 
Billy  Wooden  had  also  killed  a  goat,  presum- 
ably a  billy,  which  was  dropped  in  a  very  in- 
accessible gulch  too  precipitous  to  negotiate  that 
day  owing  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour.  We 
reached  camp  at  8:30  p.  m.,  after  being  two  and 
a  half  hours  on  the  ice  field. 

It  wasn't  a  very  difficult  matter,  for  those  of 

66 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

us  who  could,  to  rest  in  camp  the  following  day 
while  Longley,  Wooden  and  Rogers  went  after 
the  five  goat  hides  and  meat.  They  started  in  a 
drizzle  which  later  cleared  a  little,  but  the  slow 
rain  was  intermittent  until  nightfall.  During 
the  day  Charlie  Baxter  (the  White  Horse  guide) 
came  thru  with  Mr.  Corcoran.  The  outfit 
stopped  long  enough  for  us  to  exchange  greet- 
ings. Having  met  all  the  members  of  the  party 
before,  it  was  very  pleasant  to  have  their  trail 
in  the  hills  cross  ours. 

This  idle  day  in  camp  gave  William  and  me 
an  opportunity  to  enjoy  a  very  pleasant  diver- 
sion from  the  camp  routine — that  of  giving 
Jimmy,  our  cook,  orders  on  baking  a  birthday 
cake  for  Harry.  William  had  "soft-pedaled" 
some  of  us  the  information  while  at  McCarthy 
that  his  father  would  pass  his  5oth  milestone  in 
camp,  and,  in  order  that  his  half-century  mark 
might  not  go  by  forgotten  we  collected  some  can- 
dles in  McCarthy.  These  we  brought  forth  and 
handed  to  our  Japanese  boy  with  the  admonition 
that  he  must  be  prepared  to  bake  the  camp  cake 
of  his  life.  We  appropriated  the  mess-tent  for 
our  collusion,  and  barred  all  from  entrance 
during  the  day.  When  night  fell  we  had  a  cake 
fit  for  the  gods,  with  beautiful  white  frosting 
and  two  colors  of  gingerbread  trimming.  We 
had  a  big  feed  that  night,  and  were  in  the  middle 
of  it  when  the  boys,  rain-soaked  and  cold,  came 
in  with  the  skins  and  meat.  Harry  was  com- 

67 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

pletely  surprised  when  Jimmy  produced  the 
cake,  as  he  had  no  idea  of  such  a  thing  being 
sprung  on  him.  A  few  impromptu  presents  were 
produced,  one  being  a  hunting  knife,  and  one 
from  William,  being  a  promise  that  he'd  try  to 
emulate  his  father's  good  example  in  everything. 
Harry  simply  gasped  out  his  thanks,  telling  us 
between  quick  breaths  how  much  he  thought  of 
us  all,  and  that  he  never  so  thoroly  enjoyed  a 
birthday  in  his  life.  The  felicitations  on  both 
sides  flowed  like  water  until  bed  time,  about 
10  o'clock. 

The  return  of  the  boys  with  the  skins  was  the 
occasion  for  a  little  jolt  to  me,  as,  when  they 
reached  my  goat  they  learned  that  it  was  not  a 
billy  at  all,  but  a  nanny.  Billy  Wooden's  "billy" 
also  turned  out  to  be  a  nanny,  much  to  his 
regret. 

When  on  the  following  morning  we  awoke  to 
find  it  still  raining  we  began  to  think  that  our 
trip  had  acted  as  a  hoodoo  on  the  weather. 
This  was  our  seventh  day  out  from  McCarthy, 
and  during  that  week  there  was  not  a  day  en- 
tirely free  from  rain.  The  boys  wrangled  and 
packed  the  horses  in  the  rain  and  we  mounted 
our  steeds  and  departed  across  the  Nizina 
Glacier  in  the  rain.  After  crossing  the  ice  we 
entered  a  pretty,  forested  valley — the  Skolai — 
following  it  to  Clark's  roadhouse,  which  is  no 
roadhouse  at  all,  but  merely  the  scene  of  one. 
We  arrived  at  camp  at  4  p.  m.;  distance  traveled 

68 


Ed 

a 
8 


IN  THE  GOAT  AND  GLACIER  FIELDS 

during  day,  ten  miles — a  mileage  negotiable  by 
auto  on  a  good  road  in  fifteen  minutes;  quite 
some  comparison  when  you  contemplate  it. 

The  information  developed  since  our  goat 
hunt  on  Finger  Mountain  (also  called  Rhinoc- 
eros Peak)  that  there  was  a  better  chance  of 
getting  billies  on  the  mountain  north  of  Finger 
Mountain  and  across  Rohn  Glacier  from  it  (in 
fact,  Mr.  Baxter  told  us  that  billies  were  not 
found  on  Finger  Mountain,  so  we  decided  to  lay 
over  a  day  at  Clark's,  and  allow  William  and 
Rogers  to  try  their  luck  for  a  male  goat.  There- 
fore, accompanied  by  Cap,  Wooden  and  Shorty, 
they  departed.  Harry,  Jimmie  Brown  and  I 
thought  we'd  put  in  the  time  riding  up  the  trail- 
a  few  miles  to  the  Frederika  (the  route  of  our 
proposed  ride  on  the  morrow),  in  the  hope  that 
we  might  see  a  bear.  We  saw  the  fresh  track  of 
a  little  black  bear  that  led  us  up  the  Skolai  and 
onto  Frederika  Glacier,  but,  losing  it  on  the 
glacier  we  returned  to  camp,  after  traveling  about 
fifteen  miles.  The  other  members  returned  at 
8  p.  m.  and  reported  that  Baxter's  outfit  (guiding 
Mr.  Corcoran)  had  beat  them  to  the  mountain 
aimed  for,  and  that,  as  far  as  they  could  see  and 
learn,  the  other  party  had  succeeded  in  getting 
some  billy  goats.  Wooden  reported  that  he  and 
William  had  crawled  up  to  within  150  yards  of  a 
ram,  which  William  missed. 


69 


Third  Chapter 


RUSSELL   GLACIER 


THE  SPELL  OF  THE  YUKON 

I've  stood  in  some  mighty-mouthed  hollow 

That's  plumb-full  of  hush  to  the  brim ; 
I've  watched  the  big,  husky  sun  wallow 

In  crimson  and  gold,  and  grow  dim, 
Till  the  moon  set  the  pearly  peaks  gleaming, 

And  the  stars  tumbled  out,  neck  and  crop ; 
And  I've  thought  that  I  surely  was  dreaming, 

With  the  peace  o'  the  world  piled  on  top. 

The  summer — no  sweeter  was  ever ; 

The  sunshiny  woods  all  athrill ; 
The  grayling  aleap  in  the  river, 

The  bighorn  asleep  on  the  hill. 
The  strong  life  that  never  knows  harness ; 

The  wilds  where  the  caribou  call ; 
The  freshness,  the  freedom,  the  farness — 

O  God  !  how  I'm  stuck  on  it  all. 

There's  a  land  where  the  mountains  are  nameless, 

And  the  rivers  all  run  God  knows  where ; 
There  are  lives  that  are  erring  and  aimless, 

And  deaths  that  just  hang  by  a  hair ; 
There  are  hardships  that  nobody  reckons ; 

There  are  valleys  unpeopled  and  still ; 
There's  a  land — oh,  it  beckons  and  beckons, 

And  I  want  to  go  back — and  I  will. 

— Robert  Stnice. 


THIRD  CHAPTER 
RUSSELL  GLACIER 

HHE  morning  of  August  i8th  found  us 
packing  up  at  Clark's  for  the  fourteen- 
mile  ride  up  the  Skolai  River  to  Skolai  Lake. 
The  air  was  most  refreshing,  and  the  hillsides 
reflected  all  the  variegated  shades  of  green. 
While  we  were  to  pass  above  timberline  on  the 
ride  today,  yet  we  started  in  a  spot  beautifully 
clothed  in  timber.  The  deciduous  foliage  was 
now  beginning  to  receive  its  autumnal  color — 
about  a  month  ahead  of  the  time  in  which  it  is 
painted  in  Colorado — but  as  the  pines  were 
greatly  in  the  majority  here  the  yellow  spots 
seemed  only  as  light  siftings  sprinkled  among 
the  green.  As  the  leaf-shedding  timber  of  this 
country  buds  out  about  June  ist  it  will  be  seen 
that  it  remains  green  only  for  about  two  and  one- 
half  to  three  months,  or  a  couple  of  months  less 
time  than  in  Colorado. 

The  crossing  of  the  Frederika  River  (which 
issues  from  the  Frederika  Glacier  and  flows  into 
the  Skolai  some  seven  miles  above  Clark's)  was 
accomplished  with  some  difficulty,  including  a 
few  leg  drenchings,  but  after  all  the  packs  were 

73 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

safely  across  we  settled  back  into  single  file  up 
the  Skolai  again  and  were  happy.  A  red  fox 
streaked  across  our  forward  trail  and  took  shelter 
in  the  canon  below,  while  our  timberline  eleva- 
tion brought  us  in  close  proximity  to  several 
eagles,  whose  buoyant  circles  and  raucous  calls 
were  taken  as  signals  that  we  were  welcome  to 
their  domain.  If  these  birds  should  be  satisfied 
with  rodents,  offal,  etc.,  for  their  menu,  I  would 
feel  inclined  to  like  them;  but  considering  the 
great  menace  they  are  to  young  game,  especially 
lambs  and  kids,  I  am  heartily  in  sympathy  with 
the  Alaskan  view  that  they  should  be  killed 
whenever  possible.  The  present  5<D-cent  bounty 
is  totally  inadequate  to  keep  their  numbers 
down  below  the  point  of  danger  to  sheep  and 
other  game.  When  a  lamb  is  born  nearly  every 
eagle,  it  seems,  within  50  miles  of  the  scene,  knows 
it,  and  by  striking  it  with  their  wings,  by  at- 
tacking it  with  their  beaks  and  claws,  and  other- 
wise harrassing  it,  they  soon  topple  it  over  a  cliff, 
where  it  furnishes  a  rich  morsel  for  their  ghoulish 
appetites. 

Skolai  Basin  (also  called  Skolai  Lake  and 
Skolai  Pass — altho  it  is  not  the  summit  of  the 
pass)  was  reached  at  5  p.  m.  in  a  rain  storm. 
They  say  that  if  there  is  any  rain  or  snow  in  the 
country  it  will  fall  here — a  sort  of  magnet,  it 
seems,  for  all  trading  winds,  and  blizzards. 
Being  above  timberline  (elevation  4,300  ft.)  no 
timber  shelter  was  available  and  consequently 


RUSSELL  GLACIER 

no  material  at  hand  for  tent  poles.  We  carried 
on  the  packs  from  our  morning's  camp  enough 
wood  for  the  cook-stove,  but  that  was  all.  By 
erecting  Harry's  tentobed  first  it  gave  us  a  foun- 
dation from  which  to  spread  a  tarp  to  cover  the 
beds  of  William,  Rogers  and  myself,  so  we  were 
soon  at  ease  on  that  score.  Jimmie,  the  cook, 
soon  had  his  stove  up  and  a-blazing,  and  by 
stretching  a  tarp  from  one  bush  to  another  next 
the  stove  he  had  a  very  effective  windbreak, 
altho  the  cooking  and  eating  were  all  accom- 
plished in  the  rain. 

The  guides  all  bunked  together  in  the  edge  of 
the  bushes  after  stretching  canvas  over  the  alders 
where  their  beds  were  laid.  Jimmie  made  a  sort 
of  camouflage  lean-to  near  the  stove,  but  got 
pretty  badly  wet  before  morning.  Altogether 
it  was  a  very  uncomfortable  night,  and  therefore 
we  felt  in  no  mood  upon  arising  to  enjoy  the 
beautiful  scenery  hereabouts. 

The  first  ptarmigan  encountered  on  the  trip 
was  seen  the  following  morning — a  covey  of  only 
three  or  four.  In  fact,  ptarmigan  were  rarely 
seen.  I  doubt  if  more  than  twenty-five  of  these 
birds  were  met  with  by  all  the  members  of  our 
party  while  out,  and  not  more  than  half  a  dozen 
rabbits.  A  couple  or  so  years  before  they  were 
both  found  there  in  great  numbers.  From  what 
I  could  learn,  both  the  ptarmigan  and  rabbits 
die  off  after  they  become  so  plentiful  that  the 
food  olays  out.  Then  a  plague  seems  to  take 

75 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

them,  and  they  die  by  the  wholesale.  I  am  told 
that  the  apex  of  their  abundance  is  reached  about 
every  seven  years.  That  is  their  death-knell, 
and  the  following  year  there  isn't  a  rabbit  nor  a 
ptarmigan  to  be  found.  Gradually,  however, 
they  begin  to  come  back  and  continue  to  increase 
for  seven  years,  when  again  the  plague  seizes 
them  and  they  disappear  as  before.  I  conclude, 
of  course,  that  all  these  birds  and  animals  could 
not  be  killed  off  at  each  recurring  period,  other- 
wise there  would  be  no  seed  left  for  reproduction. 
I  wonder  if  such  a  plague  could  have  wiped 
away  our  passenger  pigeons,  which  disappeared 
so  suddenly  and  mysteriously  from  our  midst 
many  years  ago. 

Not  a  great  while  back  there  were  no  coyotes 
to  be  found  on  the  White  River,  but  now  they 
are  working  into  that  country,  and  it  may  not 
be  many  years  before  they  will  be  as  great  a  men- 
ace to  the  game  of  Alaska  and  Yukon  Territory 
as  they  are  now  to  the  stock  and  game  of  the 
States. 

As  we  topped  the  boggy  eminence  that  morn- 
ing above  our  Skolai  camp  we  beheld  that  gorge- 
ful  of  glistening  ice  known  as  Russell  Glacier, 
straight  ahead  and  a  mile  away.  The  mouth  of 
this  great  ice-mass  stretched  across  the  stream 
bed  for  a  mile  or  two,  resembling  at  this  distance 
a  great  long  strip  of  canvas  pegged  down  at 
either  end  by  the  rocky  promontories  of  the 
gulch.  Soon  we  climbed  up  on  its  slippery  sur- 


RUSSELL  GLACIER 

face,  and  were  trailing  on  an  ice  bed  beside  which 
Nizina  and  Regal  (crossed  while  hunting  goats) 
paled  to  mere  insignificance.  It  is  twelve  miles 
across  Russell,  and  each  mile  traveled  is  danger- 
ous and  difficult.  From  the  headwaters  of  the 
Skolai  River  (which  is  fed  by  Russell  Glacier) 
we  cross  over  on  the  ice  to  the  head  of  the  White 
River,  which  also  finds  its  source  in  the  same 
glacier.  In  other  words,  Russell  Glacier  is  the 
divide  between  McCarthy  and  the  White  River 
country. 

Russell  Glacier  is  composed  about  half  of 
white  ice  and  half  of  moraine.  The  former,  of 
course,  is  pure  ice,  but  for  the  benefit  of  those  who 
do  not  know  it  may  be  well  to  rudely  and  briefly 
describe  the  moraine.  To  glance  over  certain 
parts  of  its  mountainous  surface,  where  the 
gashes  and  precipices  do  not  disclose  the  ice,  one 
would  liken  it  to  a  very  hilly  formation  com- 
posed of  broken,  angular-shaped  lava  rock,  or 
shale  rock,  so  frequently  found  in  our  moun- 
tains. These  rocks  run  in  size  from  a  grain  of 
sand  to  a  cook  stove,  averaging,  perhaps,  two  or 
three  inches  in  size.  They  form  a  sort  of  coating 
or  dressing  over  the  ice  bed,  this  coating  running 
in  thickness  from  an  inch  to  several  feet,  averaging 
about  six  inches.  It  is  more  treacherous  to  travel 
than  the  white  ice,  for  the  reason  that  either 
horse  or  man  is  apt  to  depend  on  it  to  hold  when 
it  will  not.  On  a  sharp  declivity,  where  the 
greatest  support  is  needed,  the  horse,  fooled  by 

77 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

this  gravel  and  rock  coating,  ofttimes  goes 
sprawling,  depending  on  his  skating  ability  and 
balance  to  land  right  side  up  at  the  foot  of  the 
slide. 

Cave-ins  are  almost  constantly  occurring  ow- 
ing to  the  movement  of  the  glacier  and  the  melt- 
ing of  the  ice;  therefore  a  good  trail  today  may 
be  torn  out  by  an  ice-slide  tomorrow.  On  .a  great 
part  of  Russell  Glacier  no  trail  at  all  is  visible, 
but  over  the  most  dangerous  sections  used  by 
prospectors,  packers,  trappers  and  guides,  the 
travelers  have  found  it  of  advantage  to  follow 
certain  well-defined  courses.  The  travel  has  in 
these  spots  beaten  down  the  rocks  into  a  fairly 
visible  trail.  Occasionally  it  was  found  neces- 
sary to  stop  the  outfit  long  enough  to  chop  the 
ice  from  a  hillside  to  fill  a  dangerous  "gulch"  or 
to  hew  down  an  impossible  ice  barrier,  too  slip- 
pery to  climb.  For  this  purpose  ice  picks  and 
axes  were  always  kept  on  top  of  the  packs  for 
quick  use. 

Four  sheep  were  seen  from  this  morning's 
camp  at  Skolai  Pass,  and  a  band  of  some  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  were  later  noticed  on  one  of  the 
mountains  flanking  Russell  Glacier  as  we  passed. 

After  six  hours  of  very  nervous  travel  on  the 
glacier,  we  came  out  on  the  bank  of  the  ice-field, 
which  was  in  fact  its  east  mouth.  Down  this 
bank  for  300  yards  we  scrambled,  slid  and  rolled 
to  the  flat  gravel  bed  of  the  White  River,  and  our 
glacier  travel  was  ended  until  the  return. 

78 


D 
3* 


i. 

3* 


RUSSELL  GLACIER 

We  followed  down  the  bar  of  the  White  for  ten 
miles  to  camp  at  North  Fork  Island — a  collection 
of  very  substantial  cabins  built  (except  one  two- 
story  cabin)  by  Howard  H.  Fields,  of  the  Ameri- 
can Smelting  &  Refining  Co.,  Denver,  Colo. 
Mr.  Fields  spent  some  time  in  Alaska  during  the 
Shushanna  gold  rush.  They  cost  thousands  of 
dollars  to  construct  but  can  now  be  bought  for 
$50.00. 

They  are  now  entirely  deserted  except  for  the 
"patronage"  they  receive  from  passing  prospec- 
tors, hunters  and  trappers.  On  the  way  into 
camp  William  saw  a  very  fresh  bear  track,  Shorty 
a  fresh  moose  track  and  I  a  nearly  fresh  bear  track. 
The  river  bar  was  well  tracked  up  with  old  signs, 
and  our  hopes  mounted  to  lofty  heights  as  we 
contemplated  on  what  we  would  do  to  the  wearers 
of  those  hoofs  and  claws  later  on. 

This  was  a  hard  day  on  all — men  and  horses 
alike.  We  had  covered  twenty-six  miles  from 
our  Skolai  camp,  twelve  of  which  was  over  the 
glacier,  and  we  all  felt  very  tired. 

The  next  morning  broke  in  a  drizzle.  Feeling 
that  we  might  run  short  of  salt,  and  knowing 
that  we  would  need  more  bacon,  we  sent  Jimmie 
Brown  over  to  Shushanna  (the  old  mining  camp, 
35  miles  distant — now  a  collection  of  a  dozen  or 
so  occupied  houses)  for  these  two  commodities. 
He  took  a  pack  horse,  and  came  up  with  us  a 
few  days  later  at  the  Kletsan  camp.  The  200 
pounds  of  salt  that  he  bought  cost  35  cents  a 

79 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

pound,  or  $70  for  the  lot,  while  35  pounds  of 
bacon  cost  70  cents  a  pound  (they  usually  add 
about  25  cents  a  pound  for  freighting).  These 
prices  did  not  seem  exorbitant  when  we  were  in- 
formed that  ore  costs  $1,100  a  carload  for  ship- 
ping charges  alone  from  Kennecott  to  Cordova, 
196  miles. 

We  got  started  for  the  Kletsan  about  10 
o'clock,  following  down  the  White  for  eighteen 
miles.  Signs  of  moose  and  bear  were  seen  all 
along  the  trail,  and  on  this  account  Harry,  Cap 
and  I  headed  the  procession,  expecting  to  jump 
game  at  any  time.  By  far  the  most  of  the  bear 
tracks  seen  during  the  day  were  grizzly — some 
of  them  large,  about  7  or  7^  in.  across  front  paw. 
When  at  5  o'clock  we  unpacked  at  the  first  per- 
manent camp  of  our  trip — the  Kletsan,  eleva- 
tion 3,000  ft. — we  counted  thirty- two  sheep 
(ovis  dalli — there  are  no  other  species  in  this 
country)  on  the  famous  old  sheep  mountain 
across  the  White  River  from  our  camp,  about 
five  miles  away  (elevation  about  7,000  ft.). 
This  eminence  we  later  named  Mount  Figgins, 
in  honor  of  the  director  of  our  museum,  J.  D. 
Figgins.  (I  have  applied  to  Washington  to  have 
it  officially  named  and  the  one  at  Skolai  Lake 
called  James  Peak,  in  honor  of  Harry  C.  James, 
my  co-worker  and  companion  on  this  trip.) 


80 


Fourth  Chapter 


SHEEP— BOTH  WHITE  AND  DARK- 
A  DIGRESSION 


FOURTH  CHAPTER 

SHEEP— BOTH    WHITE    AND    DARK— A 
DIGRESSION 

were  now  camped  within  a  few  hours' 
walk  of  the  mountain  that  was  destined 
to  yield  us  the  greatest  number  of  sheep 
trophies  of  any  spot  on  the  line  of  our  journey. 
And  next  morning  we  were  to  start  hunting 
for  these  rare  animals — a  species  of  our  Ameri- 
can wild  life  than  which  there  is  none  more 
interesting,  none  so  little  understood,  none 
shrouded  in  greater  mystery.  For  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Ovis  have  only  been  close  friends  of  ours  for 
something  like  100  years — a  very  short  spell 
from  the  scientist's  standpoint.  The  Lewis  & 
Clark  expedition  (which  in  1804-05  traversed 
the  most  ideal  sheep  ranges  on  this  continent) 
knew  nothing  authentic  about  the  bighorn — in 
fact,  when  these  animals  were  killed  by  its  mem- 
bers for  meat  there  was  some  doubt  cast  as  to 
their  being  sheep  at  all.  Considering  the  fact 
that  Mother  Nature  holds  no  bones  of  the  ovis 
family  in  her  cemetery,  I  am  just  a  little  puzzled 
at  the.variety  of  species  that  some  of  our  scientists 

83 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

recognize  in  these  animals.  For  of  course  it 
takes  great  periods  of  time  for  even  the  process  of 
evolution  to  scatter  and  perpetuate  the  seeds  of 
species,  or  even  sub-species. 

I  have  looked  up  the  latest  publications  on 
sheep  (Miller,  U.  S.  National  Museum),  and  to  my 
amazement  find  he  now  recognizes  thirteen  spe- 
cies and  varieties,  not  counting fannini,  which  is 
recognized  as  a  cross  between  stonet  and  dalli. 

Regarding  the  name  "bighorn:"  the  general 
name  for  the  entire  genera  is  "mountain 
sheep,"  or  just  "sheep."  "Bighorn,"  in  its  pop- 
ular application,  refers  only  to  first  known  cana- 
densis — the  others  being  designated  as  Ball's 
sheep,  Stone's  sheep,  Nelson's  sheep,  etc.  In- 
cidentally, the  name  canadensis  is  incorrect,  but 
long  usage  establishes  it.  It  was  described  as 
canadensis  by  Shaw  in  1804,  but  some  two 
months  earlier,  Desmarest  called  it  cervina. 

In  1885,  True  called  it  montanus,  and  in  1891 
Merriam  reverted  to  canadensis.  In  1912,  Allen 
proved  cervina  was  the  proper  name  because  of 
priority  of  the  name.  As  Shaw  used  Desmarest's 
type  specimen  for  his  name  canadensis^  he  has 
since  been  under  suspicion,  but  the  long  use  of 
the  name  establishes  it  apparently,  and  besides, 
why  should  we  enter  the  quarrel  at  this  late  day? 

As  stated  elsewhere  in  this  work  I  thoroughly 
disagree  with  the  recognition  of  the  long  list  of 
subspecific  varieties.  I  can  only  see  two  main 
soecies — dalli  and  canadensis. 

84 


SHEEP— BOTH  WHITE  AND  DARK 

Below  is  a  list  of  the  mountain  sheep  given  by 
Miller,  together  with  the  type  locality  of  each: 

Ovis  canadensis   canadensis:   "Bighorn";   mountains  on   Bow 
River,  near  Calgary,  Alberta. 

*0vis  canadensis  auduboni:  Upper  Missouri,  S.  D.  (I  think  this 
was  the  original  type  locality  of  canadensis,  but  the  names 
have  been  changed  and  a  new  type  locality  given  to  the 
"bighorn." 

*0vis    canadensis    californiana:  Near    Mt.    Adams,    Yakima 

County,  Wash. 

*0vis  canadensis  cremnobates:  Matomi,  San  Pedro  Martir  Moun- 
tain, Lower  California. 

*0vis  canadensis  gaillardi:  Between  Tinajas  Altas  and  Mexican 
boundary  line,  Yuma  County,  Arizona. 

*0vis  canadensis  Sierrae:  Mt.  Baxter,  Inyo  County,  California. 
*0vis  canadensis  texiana:  "Texas  mountain  sheep";  Guadalupe 
Mountains,  El  Paso  County,  Tex. 

Ovis   cowani:   Cowan's  mountain   sheep.     Near   Mt.   Logan, 
British  Columbia. 

Ovis  dalli  dalli:  Ball's  mountain  sheep.    West  of  Ft.  Reliance, 
Alaska. 

Ovis  dalli  kenaiensis:  Kenai  mountain  sheep.    Kenai  Peninsula, 
Alaska. 

Ovis  fannini:  Fannin's  mountain  sheep.    No  longer  recognized 
as  a  sub-species. 

Ovis  mexicana:  Mexican  mountain  sheep.    Lake  Santa  Maria, 
Chihuahua,  Mexico. 

Ovis   ne/soni:  Nelson's   sheep.     Grapevine   Mountains,   Cali- 
fornia-Nevada boundary. 

Ovis  stonei:  Stone's  mountain  sheep.     Stikine  River,   B.  C. 

While  the  nervous  waters  were  battering  down 
and  wearing  away  the  bridge  that  then  con- 
nected Alaska  and  Kamchatka,  Old  Man  Big- 
horn sallied  eastward,  he  and  his  kin,  into  the 

•No  common  name. 

85 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

country  which  later  became  his  home,  and  which 
now  extends  from  the  Sierra  Madres  to  the 
Arctic  Circle. 

One  hundred  years  ago  sheep  had  not  all  been 
driven  to  the  higher  elevations,  but  were  found 
in  plenteous  numbers  as  far  east  as  the  tablelands 
of  the  Dakotas,  Western  Nebraska,  etc.  The 
encroach  of  the  hunter  and  the  homesteader  in 
later  years  drove  these  bands  that  were  living 
low,  to  higher  ground  in  the  mountains;  thence 
at  a  still  later  period  to  the  rocky  cliffs  of  the 
mountains  and  the  stretches  around  timberline. 
(I  do  not  mean  to  infer  that  sheep  at  that  period 
were  not  found  also  in  plentiful  numbers  in  the 
Rockies — even  above  timberline — for  they  were; 
but  in  addition  to  their  natural  habitat  in  the 
higher  mountains,  they  had  drifted  eastward  to 
the  tablelands  mentioned.) 

Just  as  there  are  in  reality  only  three  species 
of  bears  (the  grizzly,  black  and  Polar — all  others 
being  sub-species),  so  also  are  the  main  species  of 
sheep  confined — namely  to  two,  the  ovis  cana- 
densis  and  ovis  dalli.  The  ovis  nelsoni,  ovis 
mexicana,  ovis  cremnobates,  etc.,  are  all  branches 
of  the  family  canadensis,  while  the  ovis  fannini, 
as  stated  elsewhere,  is  merely  a  cross  between 
ovis  stonei  and  ovis  dalli.  As  you  come  south 
from  the  real  home  of  the  dalli  (the  Kenai  Penin- 
sula and  the  mainlands  east  of  it)  you  find  black 
hairs  mixed  with  the  white  of  these  animals. 
The  farther  you  journey  south  toward  the  nat- 

86 


SHEEP— BOTH  WHITE  AND  DARK 

ural  home  of  the  stonei  (the  Cassiar  Mountains 
of  British  Columbia  and  some  surrounding  terri- 
tory) the  more  pronounced  in  numbers  these 
black  and  dark-colored  hairs  become,  until  ovis 
stonei  is  found.  (Most  of  the  sheep  collected  by 
our  expedition  were  found  on  close  inspection  to 
have  plenty  of  black  hairs,  although  they  were 
so  limited  as  not  to  be  seen  at  even  so  short  a 
distance  as  ten  or  twelve  feet.) 

At  the  present  day  sheep  are  almost  oblit- 
erated in  the  United  States  except  in  Wyoming, 
Montana  and  Idaho — and  even  in  the  latter  two 
States  it  has  been  found  advisable  to  place  a  per- 
petual closed  season  on  them.  At  the  present 
time  big-horn  sheep  may  be  killed  only  in  one 
State  of  the  Union — Wyoming — and  I  anticipate 
that  an  absolute  closed  season  will  be  placed  on 
them  at  Wyoming's  present  Assembly,  thereby 
rendering  the  big-horn  immune  from  rifle  fire 
in  every  State  of  the  Union.  Thus  shall  have 
•passed  from  the  sportsman's  pursuit  one  of  the 
most  highly-prized  and  picturesque  of  the 
American  wild  animals. 

John  B.  Burnham,  president  of  the  American 
Game  Protective  and  Propagation  Association 
(of  which  every  American  sportsman  should  be  a 
member),  and  who  has  hunted  all  the  different 
varieties  of  big  game  in  nearly  every  section  of 
this  continent,  writes  me  concerning  sheep: 

"If  not  today,  the  time  is  not  far  distant  when 
in  dollars  and  cents  sheep  will  be  the  most  val- 

8? 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

uable  game  in  North  America.  Sportsmen  will 
go  farther  for  sheep  than  any  other  game  except 
bears." 

The  breeding  season  for  sheep  extends  from 
the  1 5th  of  November  until  the  first  of  February, 
depending  on  weather  and  physical  conditions, 
as  well  as  location.  The  most  common  period  is 
from  about  November  25th  to  January  1st,  the 
January  rutting  being  very  exceptional.  Lambs 
are  dropped  usually  from  May  I5th  to  June  25th 
in  the  States  among  the  canadensis  family,  but 
on  the  White  River  the  period  usually  runs  a 
little  earlier — from  May  1st  to  May  20 th. 
Ordinarily  but  one  lamb  is  born,  but  I  believe 
after  the  ewe's  first  young  she  will  have  two 
quite  frequently. 

The  successful  sheep  hunter  must,  perforce, 
have  the  game  vision  developed  to  the  very 
highest  order  of  perfection.  He  should  be  a  good 
climber,  strong  of  heart  and  limb  and  a  good 
game  shot.  While  many  sheep  are  killed  at  a  dis- 
tance under  100  yards,  yet  most  of  them  are  shot 
at  ranges  far  exceeding  these  figures.  A  man 
doesn't  have  to  be  a  good  target  shot  in  order  to 
be  a  successful  sheep  hunter.  He  may  be  able 
to  make  90  to  95  regularly  at  the  target  range 
and  absolutely  fail  when  shooting  at  sheep. 
The  prime  requisites  are  a  cool  head,  ordinary 
ability  to  judge  distances  quickly,  and  good 
marksmanship  qualities.  I  am  now  speaking 
of  the  man  who  would  do  a  considerable  amount 

88 


Upper  picture — A  "kettle-biled"  lunch  in  the  caribou  country. 
Middle — How  a  sheep  specimen  was  damaged  by  eagles. 
Lower — A  large  white  sheep. 


SHEEP— BOTH  WHITE  AND  DARK 

of  sheep  hunting  and  not  of  the  one  who  would 
go  out  on  a  single  trip  for  these  animals.  In  the 
latter  case  he  might  accidentally  run  onto  a  big 
ram  during  the  first  day's  hunting,  and  might 
also  be  able  to  kill  his  ram  at  twenty-five  yards. 
Such  luck  as  this,  however,  seldom  falls  to  the 
lot  of  the  sheep  hunter. 

Apropos  of  the  subject  of  approaching  sheep 
at  close  range,  I  believe  Ned  Frost,  the  Wyoming 
guide,  has  had  more  extraordinary  experiences 
than  anyone  I  know  of.  Writing  to  me  on  the 
subject  he  says: 

"I  once  had  a  good-sized  ram  come  up  to  me 
where  I  was  eating  my  lunch  and  after  working 
around,  and  sizing  me  up  from  all  sides,  he 
finally  came  right  up  to  me  and  actually  licked 
my  hand,  and  I  could  see  myself  in  his  eye,  just 
like  looking  in  a  small  mirror;  but  when  I  made 
a  grab  at  his  front  legs,  thinking  that  perhaps  I 
might  be  able  to  throw  him  and  get  him  in  alive, 
he  got  really  frightened  and  showed  that  he  was 
a  real  sure-enough  wild  sheep  by  getting  down 
off  that  mountain  and  up  the  other  side  of  the 
canon  and  on  over  the  highest  peak  in  sight  with- 
out hardly  stopping  to  look  back.  I  would  not 
have  liked  to  tackle  the  job  of  getting  within 
rifle  range  of  him  again  that  day. 

"Another  rather  queer  thing  happened  to 
Judge  Ford,  of  New  York  City,  and  myself, 
during  September,  1915,  while  hunting  near  the 
headwaters  of  the  Shoshone  in  Wyoming.  We 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

had  been  watching  a  couple  of  bunches  of  sheep 
for  some  time,  and  one  lot  of  seven  being 
right  in  line  with  where  we  were  going,  we  ex- 
posed ourselves  to  their  view,  and  watched  re- 
sults. Six  of  them  'beat  it'  at  once,  but  the  other 
one  never  moved,  and  we  found  later  that  he  was 
sound  asleep  in  the  sun,  and  he  never  woke  up 
till  we  were  just  opposite  him  and  about  a  couple 
of  hundred  yards  away.  Then  as  he  got  up  and 
saw  no  sheep  close  by,  he  evidently  made  up  his 
mind  we  were  sheep,  and  here  he  came,  right 
up  to  within  five  feet  of  us,  and  then  seemed 
much  surprised  to  find  we  were  not  his  kind  of 
people  at  all.  But  still  he  was  not  frightened 
enough  to  beat  it,  but  kept  walking  around  us 
within  a  few  yards  as  tho  trying  to  make  us  out 
to  be  sheep  anyway.  He  was  only  a  yearling— 
but  show  me  the  yearling  elk,  deer  or  any  other 
wild  animal  that  would  exhibit  such  boneheaded- 
ness!  It  was  just  such  doings  as  this  that  made 
me  think  that  they  were  not  much  on  the  scent, 
and  I  have  proven  it  to  myself  many  times,  and 
even  that  same  day  I  took  Judge  Ford  right  up 
to  within  thirty  yards  of  seventeen  ewes  and 
lambs  with  the  wind  blowing  straight  from  us  to 
them." 

I  danot  profess  to  be  an  expert  sheep  hunter. 
If  I  could  consider  myself  such  I  would  feel  that 
I  had  reached  the  very  highest  pinnacle  of  hunt- 
ing proficiency. 

There  is  so  much  real  art,  woods  lore,  tracking 

90 


SHEEP— BOTH  WHITE  AND  DARK 

sense,  leg  muscle  and  marksmanship  wrapped 
in  the  make-up  of  such  an  one  that  I  have  not 
even  the  faintest  suspicion  that  I  will  ever  reach 
that  distinction.  But  I  have  been  out  with  good 
sheep  hunters  and  have  seen  their  work.  I  have 
had  them  point  out  sheep  to  me  at  600  to  1,000 
yards  with  the  naked  eye  that  I  would  have  passed 
by  as  nothing  more  important  than  gray  rocks  on 
the  distant  cliffs,  or  shimmering  sun  pranks  on 
stumps  or  logs.  I  have  had  them  pick  up  what 
appeared  to  me  at  first  glance  as  deer  tracks,  but 
which  when  followed  a  few  yards  turned  out  to  be 
sheep  tracks.  This  may  sound  odd  to  the  hunter, 
but  I  had  this  very  thing  happen  many  years  ago 
while  hunting  with  Ned  Frost,  guide,  in  Wyo- 
ming. His  attention  was  first  directed  to  the 
track.  It  was  not  plain,  or  we  could  have  arrived 
at  the  correct  solution  immediately,  but  rather 
ruffled  up  in  loose,  dry  dirt.  The  toe  points 
came  together  so  closely  that  I  remarked  that  it 
was  "only  a  deer  track."  Ned  said  it  did  re- 
semble a  deer  track  a  little,  but  he  was  satisfied  it 
was  sheep,  and  such  it  proved  to  be  when  we 
finally  worked  it  out.  This  illustrates  one  of  the 
finer  points  of  sheep  hunting.  I  am  satisfied 
that  many  sheep  hunters  would  have  passed  by 
this  track  with  no  notice.  While  it  was  made  by 
a  ram  too  small  for  us  to  consider,  it  might  have 
been  the  trail  of  an  old  fellow  with  a  ly-inch  head. 
There  is  a  factor  in  sheep  hunting  that  makes 
it  one  of  the  most  dangerous  of  American  hunt- 

91 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

ing  sports.  In  making  this  statement  I  do  not 
wish  to  discourage  sportsmen  from  engaging  in  it, 
for  the  danger  is  not  so  great  as  that.  However, 
as  compared  to  grizzly  bear  hunting,  I  consider 
that  sheep  hunting  is  the  more  dangerous  to  life 
and  limb.  I  am  carrying  in  my  memory  some 
narrow  escapes  from  permanent  injury  and  death 
that  I  have  both  experienced  and  witnessed.  I  also 
have  some  well-developed  rheumatic  germs  that 
were  received  into  my  system  through  exposure 
on  the  head  of  Gravel  Bar,  Wyo.,  many  years 
ago,  while  hunting  with  Lawrence  Nordquist, 
of  Cody,  Wyo.,  as  guide.  Our  camp  was  located 
on  the  Sunlight  River  at  an  elevation  of  7,000 
feet.  A  few  days  before,  from  a  different  camp, 
we  had  seen  sheep  on  the  side  of  a  peak  rising  up 
from  Gravel  Bar.  On  this  particular  morning 
we  left  camp  at  7  a.  m.,  and  at  2  p.  m.  reached 
the  summit  at  an  elevation  of  11,400  feet,  after 
zigzagging  considerably.  We  then  descended  on 
the  other  side  600  feet,  but  found  no  sheep.  We 
saw  their  tracks  made  the  day  we  had  seen  the 
sheep  from  above  the  other  camp,  but  that  was 
all.  So  we  decided  to  return  to  camp  by  different 
routes,  and  at  3 :2O  p.  m.  we  separated,  Lawrence 
going  back  by  the  Gravel  Bar  side  and  I  descend- 
ing by  the  way  we  had  come  up.  On  returning, 
however,  I  saw  tracks  leading  around  the  other 
side  of  the  peak  from  that  by  which  we  had 
ascended,  so  I  changed  my  course  and  decided  to 
follow  them.  They  led  me  among  almost  in- 

92 


SHEEP— BOTH  WHITE  AND  DARK 

accessible  rim  rocks,  slides  and  cliffs,  and  when  I 
had  covered  a  half  mile  on  this  side  of  the  peak 
I  began  to  wish  I  had  taken  our  morning's  trail. 
Soon  I  came  to  a  point  where  I  had  to  halt 
against  the  glazy  side  of  an  unclimbable  rim. 
I  simply  could  go  no  farther  that  way,  so  was 
compelled  to  follow  the  only  course — climb  up- 
wards over  the  top  of  the  peak.  This  I  did  after 
much  difficulty,  crawling  and  dragging  myself 
over  the  knife-like  edge  of  the  summit  at  6:30 
p.  m. — nearly  dark  in  Wyoming  the  last  of 
September. 

Here  I  was,  4,400  feet  (I  always  carry  an 
aneroid  barometer)  in  elevation  above  camp, 
four  miles  distant,  and  1,000  feet  above  timber- 
line,  with  the  task  of  descending  by  a  route  over 
which,  at  places,  my  guide  and  I  had  to  assist 
each  other  in  ascending — and  this  feat  to  be 
performed  in  the  dark.  It  almost  gives  me  a 
nightmare,  even  now,  when  I  think  of  the  ex- 
periences of  that  night.  Ordinarily  I  would  have 
made  camp  at  timberline,  but  I  was  so  set  on 
getting  in  for  a  little  sleep  and  a  change  of  camp 
next  day,  that  the  camping-out  theory  received 
the  cold  shoulder  from  me.  In  some  places  I  had 
to  drop  over  precipitious  rocks  six  to  ten  feet, 
depending  on  good  luck  in  how  I  landed  at  the 
bottom.  I  held  to  insecure  roots,  shrubs,  etc., 
in  climbing  down,  which  at  times  gave  way, 
precipitating  me  down  backwards  eight  or  ten 
feet.  This  was  kept  up  until  about  10:30  p.  m. 

93 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

when  I  made  the  descent  of  the  mountain  proper, 
but  I  was  now  in  a  dense  forest  with  down  tim- 
ber, and  only  starlight  to  guide  me.  Anyone  who 
has  ever  traveled  in  a  heavy  pine  forest  after 
night  knows  what  little  light  sheds  through.  I 
arrived  at  camp  after  fording  the  Sunlight  River 
four  times,  hip  deep  in  places,  at  just  midnight, 
my  limbs  bleeding  in  a  dozen  places,  blood  on 
my  face  from  a  fall  (and  this  smeared  all  over  my 
physiognomy  from  frequent  use  of  my  handker- 
chief)? and  altogether  the  most  dilapidated  look- 
ing vagabond  that  had  been  seen  in  those  parts 
for  many  a  day — and  the  Sunlight  River  District 
has  seen  some  tough-looking  ones  in  her  time. 
I  had  also  an  experience  in  Montana  in  1911 
that  I  shall  not  soon  forget.  Johnny  Ballenger 
and  I  were  hunting  sheep  on  the  upper  reaches  of 
Grizzly  Creek,  in  the  Hell-Roaring  country  north 
of  Gardiner.  While  on  the  very  precipitous  side 
of  a  mountain  we  came  to  an  old  snow  bank. 
The  snow,  except  for  an  inch  or  two  that  had 
recently  fallen,  was  as  hard  as  ice  and  descended 
down  a  gulch  at  an  angle  of  about  45°.  It  was 
about  fifty  feet  across,  and  300  feet  long,  and  as 
it  dropped  over  a  precipice  50  yards  below  us  we 
felt  that  there  was  no  way  to  get  around  it. 
Johnny  got  over  it  first,  and  stood,  watching  my 
progress,  a  few  yards  below  the  point  that  I  was 
headed  for.  When  within  ten  feet  of  the  goal  I 
slipped  and  fell,  but  luckily  landed  in  a  sitting 
position.  Before  I  could  jab  my  gun  stock  in 

94 


SHEEP— BOTH  WHITE  AND  DARK 

the  snow  I  found  myself  slipping.  Then,  quickly, 
I  stuck  the  gun  stock  in  the  snow  on  my  right. 
This  almost  upset  me,  and  I  tried  to  dig  my  heels 
in  the  ice-like  surface,  but,  failing  in  this,  and 
accumulating  momentum  as  I  slowly  slid  for- 
ward I  again  jammed  the  gun  stock  in,  this  time 
holding  it  between  my  legs.  I  was  not  making 
much  success  at  this  when  I  passed  Johnny's 
position,  and,  hearing  him  call  and  looking  up, 
I  saw  him  holding  out  to  me  a  long  sarvis  berry 
twig.  I  held  to  it  and  swung  in  to  safety  below 
him  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  realize  the  danger 
of  my  position.  I  was  really  not  very  much  ex- 
cited until  it  was  all  over,  but  I  slept  very  little 
that  night,  thinking  of  it.  After  that  experience 
I  haven't  near  as  much  nerve  on  icy  or  snowy 
sidling  surfaces  as  I  formerly  had. 

Previous  to  my  late  trip  to  Alaska  and  Yukon 
Territory,  my  sheep  hunting  had  been  confined 
to  Wyoming  and  Montana.  In  twenty-five 
years  of  hunting  (during  which  time  I  have  been 
a  participant  in  more  than  a  score  of  big  game 
hunting  trips  in  various  parts  of  the  continent) 
I  am  glad  that  the  pursuit  of  ovis  canadensis 
has  claimed  seven  out  of  twenty-two  of  these 
trips,  as  follows: 

In  1900,  in  the  company  of  J.  A.  Ricker  and 
Dike  Fisk,  in  the  Big  Blackfoot  country  of  Mon- 
tana. 

In  1907,  withNedFrost  and  Fred Richard,in  the 
Wiggins  Fork  and  Greybull  country  of  Wyoming. 

95 


IN  THE  ALASKA- YUKON  GAMELANDS 

In  1910,  with  W.  B.  Shore  and  Johnny  Bal- 
langer on  Hell  Roaring  and  Grizzly  Creek, 
Montana. 

In  1911,  with  Will  Richard  and  Snaky  Jim 
Goodman,  on  the  South  Fork  of  the  Shoshone 
River,  Wyoming. 

In  1912,  with  Lawrence  Nordquist  and  Dave 
(Red)  Powell  on  the  Sunlight  River,  Wyoming. 

In  1914,  with  Ned  Frost  and  Fred  Richard  on 
the  North  Fork  of  the  Shoshone  River,  Wyo- 
ming. 

In  1915,  with  E.  S.  Dykes  and  Fred  Brown  on 
Dinwoody  River,  Wyoming. 

The  above  named  trips  for  sheep  represent 
some  strenuous  physical  efforts  in  the  highest  and 
ruggedest  parts  of  the  Rockies  in  Wyoming  and 
Montana,  each  one  rilled  with  its  regular  quota 
of  hardship,  toil  and  that  supremest  test  of  all — 
enduring  patience.  When  I  contemplate  that 
some  men  have  returned  from  one  hunting  trip 
on  which  they  have  secured  as  large  a  number 
of  sheep  specimens  (ovis  stonei  and  ovis  fannini) 
besides  other  game  in  addition,  as  I  have  killed 
on  all  my  seven  trips  for  ovis  canadensis  in  the 
United  States,  I  begin  to  wonder  if  I  would  be 
considered  a  very  good  sheep  hunter — or  if  my 
poor  showing  is  not  in  reality  due  to  the  superior- 
ity of  ovis  canadensis  over  ovis  stonei  and  ovis 
fannini,  in  relation  to  their  wariness  and  shrewd- 
ness in  eluding  pursuit. 

It  is  amusing  to  read  statements  made  con- 


I 

§ 

& 


SHEEP— BOTH  WHITE  AND  DARK 

earning  the  habits  of  sheep  by  men  just  returning 
from  their  initial  trip  for  these  animals — such,  for 
instance,  as:  "Always  get  above  your  sheep,  as, 
when  frightened,  they  never  run  down  hill;  a 
sheep  will  'wind'  you  half  a  mile  away;  never 
take  a  horse  into  the  sheep  hills,  if  you  expect  to 
bag  your  game;  if  a  ram  sees  you  first,  you  might 
as  well  go  to  camp,"  etc.,  etc. 

I  may  say  in  reply  to  such  statements  (I  am  not 
able  to  enumerate  here  all  that  I  have  read  of 
this  character),  that  it  is  impossible  for  a  man 
to  learn  an  animal's  habits  sufficiently  to  set 
himself  up  as  an  authority,  with  the  experiences 
of  only  one  or  two  trips  to  go  by.  In  fact,  I 
should  consider  that  such  a  man  would  be  apt 
to  give  out  some  very  dangerous  (from  a  natural 
history  standpoint)  information,  rather  than  in- 
structive, for  the  reason  that  animals,  like  per- 
sons, are  freaky  in  their  traits,  and  this  man 
might  witness  some  phenomenal  or  exceptional 
act  on  one  trip  that  might  never  be  seen  again 
in  a  hundred  years. 

To  illustrate:  My  guide  and  I  frightened  sheep, 
in  sight,  from  a  mountain  two  miles  away,  in 
Wyoming;  and  yet  at  another  time  three  rams 
sauntering  down  towards  us  on  the  opposite  hills 
in  a  quartering  direction  not  over  400  yards 
away  (while  we  in  turn  were  traveling  towards 
them,  on  horseback),  didn't  see  us.  Even  our 
quick  action  in  dismounting  did  not  disturb  them. 
One  of  these  rams  was  the  biggest  and  darkest  I 

97 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

have  ever  seen,  reminding  us  somewhat  of  a 
musk-ox  in  appearance  at  the  distance  seen. 
From  concealed  positions  behind  our  horses  we 
watched  the  little  procession  as  it  moved  slowly 
toward  us,  then  turned  and  walked  over  a  rise 
out  of  sight.  There  were  no  obstructions  of  any 
sort  to  interfere  with  vision,  for  we  were  on  the 
grassy  slopes  above  the  timberline.  These  sheep 
(or  at  least  the  old  leader — for  the  ones  in  the 
rear  are  not  so  apt  to  be  wary)  simply  had  relaxed 
into  a  thoughtless  state,  just  the  same  as  some 
people  do  who,  in  crossing  a  street,  suddenly 
butt  into  a  street  car  or  an  automobile  before 
being  brought  to.  I  am  satisfied  that  if  I  should 
be  permitted  to  go  on  a  hundred  sheep  hunts 
and  bag  my  game  on  each  trip,  I  would  never 
again  encounter  an  experience  with  wild  sheep 
like  this  one.  If  I  had  been  a  novice  at  the  time 
I  might  have  returned  to  civilization  with  some 
very  startling  disclosures  regarding  the  tameness 
of  the  big-horn. 

I  have  been  able  to  frighten  ewes  and  lambs 
from  a  hillside  half  a  mile  away,  with  no  other 
demonstration  than  quietly  walking  by;  and  yet 
I  thumped  a  pebble  from  my  thumb  against  a 
ewe's  back  ten  yards  away — and  even  then  Ned 
Frost  waved  his  coat  almost  in  her  face  before 
she  arose  and  skipped  off  with  her  lamb. 

I  have  ridden  a  horse  up  to  where  a  ram  could 
almost  jump  off  a  cliff  and  alight  on  me  while  he 
stood  watching  us  trail  along  up  the  gulch;  in 

98 


SHEEP— BOTH  WHITE  AND  DARK 

plain  sight  of  him,  we  dismounted  and  sneaked 
in  the  timber  under  cover  (our  horse  out  in  plain 
sight),  from  the  openings  of  which  we  saw  him 
continue  to  feed  and  finally  lie  down;  and  yet, 
under  similar  conditions  except  that  we  were 
afoot,  at  about  the  same  distance,  300  or  400 
yards,  I  saw  rams  stand  for  a  few  seconds  watch- 
ing us,  only  to  suddenly  flirt  away  as  I  raised  my 
gun,  and  whom  we  trailed  in  the  snow  for  three 
days  over  the  most  difficult  cliffs  and  precipices  in 
Montana — and  then  without  success. 

I  have  seen  rams  take  fright  at  what  appeared 
to  be  my  "wind"  at  a  distance  of  hundreds  of 
yards;  and  yet  I  successfully  stalked  a  ram 
while  he  was  lying  down,  with  a  fairly  strong  wind 
that  carried  my  scent  directly  to  him  at  a  distance 
of  150  yards. 

After  that  experience,  coupled  with  others 
that  I  have  had  in  stalking  rams,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  they  haven't  the  keen  scenting 
powers  with  which  they  are  generally  credited. 
In  fact  (at  least  in  the  pursuit  of  ovis  canadensis), 
if  I  were  to  go  on  a  sheep  hunt  again,  and  of 
course  I  hope  to  do  so,  I  believe  I  should  prac- 
tically eliminate  the  factor  of  wind  in  my  stalk- 
ing. I  know  I  should  pay  very  little  attention 
tb  it.  This  statement  may  cause  a  mild  sensa- 
tion among  some  sheep  hunters,  but  before  allow- 
ing themselves  to  be  convulsed  with  any  violent 
emotion  over  it,  I  would  advise,  even  though 
they  may  have  had  quite  a  little  experience  in 

99 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

sheep  hunting  themselves,  that  they  consult 
with  others  of  undoubted  experience  in  this  sport 
before  passing  censure  on  my  remarks — or  else  go 
on  some  more  sheep  hunts  themselves.  I  class 
the  sheep's  scenting  qualities  (at  least  the  ovis 
canadensis,  with  which  I  have  had  more  ex- 
perience than  with  the  ovis  dalli,  or  white  sheep) 
about  on  a  par  with  the  bear's  poor  vision,  and 
of  course  all  bear  hunters  know  how  utterly 
lacking  in  sight  Bruin  is  as  compared  to  his 
scenting  and  hearing  faculties. 


100 


Fifth  Chapter 


ON  THE  SHEEP  RANGES 


FIFTH  CHAPTER 
ON  THE  SHEEP  RANGES 

pHE  morning  following  our  arrival  at  our 
•*•  camp  on  Kletsan  Creek  (August  2ist)  we 
arose  early  with  blood  a-tingle,  and  nerves 
on  edge  for  what  turned  out  to  be  the  most 
bungling  stalk  I  have  ever  been  guilty  of  sharing 
in.  I  have  often  dwelt  on  the  importance  of 
splitting  up,  or  spreading  out,  in  game  hunting, 
in  order  to  avoid  a  crowd  while  stalking,  but  in 
this  instance  the  powers  seem  to  have  decreed 
otherwise,  for  we  approached  that  game-laden 
mountain,  on  that  most  auspicious  of  all  days, 
en  masse,  much  as  a  regiment  of  soldiers  would 
attack  an  enemy  in  the  old  way  of  the  good  old 
days.  There  were  in  the  storming  party  Harry, 
William,  Rogers  and  myself,  as  the  would-be 
annihilators  extraordinary;  Cap  and  Wooden  as 
guides,  and  Longley  as  horse  wrangler  (for  we 
rode  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  five  miles,  on 
horseback).  The  only  reason  we  didn't  take 
Brownie,  Shorty  and  Jimmy  along,  too,  was  be- 
cause Brownie  had  been  sent  to  Shushanna  for 
salt,  and  Shorty  and  Jimmie  probably  had  better 
sense  than  to  come.  Of  course  we  knew  there 

103 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

were  enough  sheep  on  the  mountain  to  supply  a 
dozen  museums — they  were  in  sight  along  its 
five-mile  comb  nearly  all  the  time — but  they 
knew  we  were  there,  too,  and  they  knew  also 
that  we  weren't  coming  up  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  them  a  tea  party. 

After  leaving  the  horses,  just  at  the  edge  of 
timberline,  in  charge  of  Bill  Longley,  we  climbed 
up  a  draw  until  a  bunch  of  seven  rams  (young 
and  old)  came  into  view  1,000  feet  above  us.  We 
ducked  out  of  sight,  then  crawled  until  we  could 
go  no  farther  without  exposing  ourselves  in 
crossing  a  ridge  ahead.  We  lay  in  the  under- 
brush and  rocks  for  half  an  hour,  hoping  they 
would  feed  out  of  sight;  but  they  didn't,  so  Cap 
and  I  retreated  down  the  draw  and  skirted  the 
ridge,  coming  up  on  the  other  side.  About  this 
time  the  other  boys  decided  to  move  also,  so 
when  we  circled  the  mountain  we  found  them  all 
lying  under  a  protecting  rock  a  few  hundred 
feet  above,  waiting  for  us.  When  we  reached 
them  we  advanced  upward,  keeping  to  the  right 
of  and  under  the  ridge,  Cap  in  the  lead  and  Harry 
and  I  following;  William  and  Rogers  had  fol- 
lowed the  comb  of  the  ridge,  slightly  above  us. 
Suddenly  Cap,  who  was  fifty  or  one  hundred  feet 
ahead  of  us,  motioned  that  he  saw  the  rams,  and 
soon  we  climbed  to  where  we  also  could  barely 
see  their  backs  outlined  against  the  sky  on  the 
ridge  200  yards  away.  Neither  Harry  nor  I 
could  see  enough  of  them  to  shoot  before  they 

104 


ON  THE  SHEEP  RANGES 

were  gone.  We  continued  for  a  few  hundred 
yards  farther,  Cap  still  fifty  feet  or  so  in  the 
lead,  when  again  they  appeared  on  the  sky-line 
250  yards  away,  looking  down  at  us.  Cap  raised 
his  gun  to  shoot,  but  I  stopped  him.  Due  to  our 
winded  condition  and  our  effort  to  get  a  solid 
footing  before  shooting  (also  to  our  trying  to  get 
out  where  their  full  bodies  showed,  as  they  made 
a  very  poor  target  for  us,  albeit  a  good  one  for 
Cap),  they  escaped  before  we  could  get  a  shot. 

Silently  and  sour  we  climbed  to  the  top  of  the 
ridge,  where  we  were  joined  by  William,  Rogers 
and  Wooden.  We  reached  the  summit  just  in 
time  to  see  the  farewell  salute  of  our  quarry  as  it 
passed  over  the  next  ridge.  It  seemed  now  too 
late  in  the  day  to  make  another  hunt,  so,  de- 
scending by  another  route  to  the  westward  we 
met  Longley  with  the  horses  as  per  appointment, 
and  rode  to  camp.  While  waiting  for  Longley 
and  scouring  the  timber  to  find  out  if  he  had 
gone  up  or  down,  Harry  saw  something  dark  thru 
the  deep  foliage  that  looked  like  a  moose.  His 
surmise  was  later  proven  to  be  correct  when 
William  found  the  fresh  sign  of  the  animal  where 
it  had  been  standing.  We  reached  camp  at 
7  p.  m.  after  a  most  unsatisfactory  hunt. 

Next  morning  we  all  arose  with  a  determined 
feeling  that  a  repetition  of  the  previous  day's 
blunder  should  never  occur  again.  William, 
Wooden,  Rogers  and  Longley  started  for  moose 
in  the  timber  near  camp,  while  Harry  and  Shorty 

105 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

went  down  the  river  five  miles,  also  for  moose, 
returning  over  the  timbered  ridge.  Neither  of 
these  two  parties  was  able  to  connect  with  game. 
Cap  and  I  went  up  the  Kletsan  eight  miles  to 
the  Jack  Dalton  cabin,  expecting  to  hunt  caribou 
on  the  barren  ground  above  it.  Six  miles  up  we 
came  to  the  "Too-Much"  Johnson  cabin,  a  de- 
serted one-room  affair  built  several  years  ago  by 
a  man  of  that  name — later  killed  in  a  crevasse  on 
the  Shushanna  Glacier.  (A  description  of  his 
tragic  death  was  published  in  the  preceding 

Eages.)  Since  then  the  cabin  has  been  occupied 
y  any  who  can  make  use  of  it,  but  principally, 
I  believe,  by  Capt.  Erickson,  a  trapper. 

The  ground  about  the  cabin  was  fairly  littered 
with  the  skins  and  horns  of  sheep,  moose  and 
caribou.  A  kennel  built  of  logs  and  lying  in  the 
timber  100  feet  from  the  cabin  for  the  shelter  of 
dogs  attested  to  the  fact  that  these  animals  had 
been  kept  there.  It  seems  that  trappers  in  that 
country  sometimes  board  sled  dogs  on  game  in 
the  summer  when  not  in  use  by  mushers.  We 
saw  several  old  camps  used  for  this  purpose, 
often  with  that  necessary  adjunct,  the  kennel 
house,  in  close  proximity.  I  have  pointed  out 
this  danger  to  our  game  to  officials  of  Alaska 
and  Yukon  Territory,  and  hope  that  the  menace 
may  some  day  be  entirely  obliterated. 

We  reached  the  Dalton  cabin  about  1 1  o'clock 
and  ate  lunch.  From  here  we  saw  three  sheep 
on  the  upper  mesas  of  the  gulch  opposite — 

1 06 


ON  THE  SHEEP  RANGES 

nestled  in  the  hills  that  skirted  that  beautiful 
summit,  Mt.  Natazhat.  It  was  clear  to  us,  how- 
ever, that  they  might  as  well  have  been  on  top 
of  that  mountain  as  where  they  were,  for  it  would 
have  been  an  utter  impossibility  to  successfully 
stalk  them.  So  we  passed  them  up  and  climbed 
over  the  hill  toward  the  caribou  barrens,  at  the 
same  time  following  the  line  of  the  Kletsan. 
We  had  gone  but  a  mile  or  two  when  we  came 
opposite  the  gulch  adjoining  the  one  in  which  we 
had  seen  the  sheep,  so  turning  the  glasses  into 
its  upper  reaches,  we  detected  five  sheep  on  a 
mesa  three  miles  up  the  gulch,  and  lost  no  time 
in  shuffling  down  thru  the  soft,  silty  soil  to  the 
Kletsan,  across  it  and  up  toward  the  game. 
Tying  the  horses  a  mile  and  a  half  up  the  little 
canon,  we  then  proceeded  on  foot,  part  of  the 
time  clinging  to  the  walls  and  often  walking  the 
stream  bed  to  keep  from  sight. 

Finally  we  reached  two  of  the  little  "guts" 
leading  up  to  the  mesa,  lying  almost  parallel. 
I  took  one  of  these  and  Cap  the  other  on  the 
plan  that  if  one  of  us  happened  to  miss  arriving 
at  the  right  spot,  the  other  might.  I  took  up 
the  first  of  these  and  Cap  the  next  one.  We 
knew  the  sheep  couldn't  be  over  200  or  300 
yards  from  where  we  stood  when  we  started  to 
climb,  so  we  had  to  be  very  careful.  When  I 
reached  a  point  near  the  summit  of  my  climb  I 
happened  to  look  Cap's  way  and  saw  him  clam- 
bering toward  me  over  the  ridge  that  lay  between 

107 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

us,  hat  and  arms  in  air,  gesticulating  and  sign- 
talking  in  the  most  excited  manner.  The  sub- 
stance of  all  his  mute  commands  was  for  me  to 
duck,  that  the  sheep  were  just  over  the  rim 
ahead  of  me — my  position  being  directly  on  a  line 
between  the  game  and  Cap. 

When  he  reached  me  we  held  a  short  pow-wow, 
the  sense  of  which  was  that  I  was  to  take  the  first 
shot,  after  which  we  both  were  to  whale  away 
until  we  had  secured  what  we  wanted — provided, 
of  course,  that  we  must  not  shoot  at  any  animal 
not  desirable  as  a  good  specimen  for  the  museum. 
With  feverish  expectancy  we  crawled  to  the  top. 
Then,  as  we  began  to  see  things  around  us  we 
went  almost  by  inches.  Finally  we  peered  over 
and  saw  five  sheep  feeding  in  a  grassy  swale. 
The  nearest  was  not  over  sixty  yards  away. 
There  were  two  3-year-olds  (a  male  and  a  fe- 
male), two  lambs  and  an  ewe.  I  picked  out  the 
male  3-year-old  and  killed  it  with  the  first  shot 
thru  the  shoulder.  Then  Cap  opened  up.  In 
fact  we  were  both  able  to  get  in  a  shot  at  the  re- 
treating band  before  they  dove  into  the  gulch 
but  a  few  yards  beyond.  We  ran  breathless  to  the 
rim  of  the  gulch  and  saw  them  stretching  tape 
like  scared  cats  300  yards  away.  I  never  saw  a 
quicker  get-away  in  my  life.  We  both  continued 
nring  at  them  as  they  ran  up  the  rocky  gorge 
and  at  the  fifth  shot  at  450  yards  (measured)  I 
dropped  the  ewe.  She  never  moved  after  falling, 
as  far  as  we  could  see  at  that  distance.  When 

108 


ON  THE  SHEEP  RANGES 

we  reached  her  she  was  dead,  the  .30  U.  S.  spitzer 
having  entered  the  side  and  traveled  diagonally 
thru  the  body,  emerging  thru  the  shoulder,  which 
was  badly  mangled. 

It  was  then  4  o'clock  and  by  6:30  we  had  them 
both  measured,  skinned  and  the  available  meat 
sorted  out.  While  skinning  out  the  young  ram 
I  noticed  with  interest  the  effect  of  the  shot. 
The  bullet  (spitzer  hard-pointed  150  grain — same 
as  used  on  the  ewe)  had  entered  the  shoulder 
without  breaking  it,  but  pulverized  the  opposite 
shoulder  and  all  meat  and  bone  within  six  inches 
of  the  path  of  exit,  for  it  went  thru  the  animal. 
When  I  saw  the  mess  I  remarked  to  Cap,  "What 
would  that  bullet  have  done  to  a  bear?"  "Par- 
alyzed 'im,"  said  he. 

While  we  both  were  conscious  of  a  certain 
satisfaction  at  the  celerity  of  our  accomplishment, 
yet  an  ominous  sky  and  sudden  sprinkle  of  rain 
boded  an  unpleasant  return  to  camp,  especially 
as  we  were  now  not  less  than  eleven  miles  from 
that  goal,  over  a  most  difficult  route. 

Shouldering  our  bundles  of  meat,  hides,  guns 
and  cameras  (some  of  which  were  tied  by  ropes 
and  straps  that  had  been  stowed  away  in  our 
pockets  for  such  an  emergency  as  this)  we  made 
for  the  horses,  a  mile  and  a  half  down  the  gulch. 
This  consumed  about  two  hours,  finding  us  both 
fairly  wet  and  very  warm  at  the  end  of  the  hike. 
At  the  horses,  Cap,  thinking  of  the  hides  first, 
wrapped  them,  against  my  vigorous  protest,  in 

109 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

his  slicker,  and  rode  to  the  Dalton  cabin,  him- 
self unprotected  from  the  cold  and  rain.  Even 
with  my  raincoat  and  oiled  chaps  I  was  very 
cold  and  wet  when  we  rode  up  to  this  cabin  about 
9:30  in  a  heavy  downpour.  Here  I  insisted  that 
we  leave  the  meat  and  hides,  so  that  Cap  might 
use  his  slicker  for  himself  during  the  balance  of 
the  way  to  camp.  The  night  air  was  very  cold 
and  the  rain,  driven  by  a  slight  wind,  was  pene- 
trating. The  eight-mile  ride  from  here  to  camp 
was  a  long  and  tiresome  one— intermixed  with 
short  stretches  of  walking  to  keep  up  our  circula- 
tion. It  continued  raining  all  the  way  to  camp, 
where  we  arrived  at  12:15  a.  m.,  soaked,  cold 
and  stiff. 

The  following  morning  (Friday,  Aug.  23rd) 
Cap  and  I  were  so  sore  and  tired  from  the  ex- 
periences of  the  preceding  day  that  we  didn't 
arise  till  9  o'clock.  The  other  members,  except 
Harry,  took  a  skirmish  for  moose  and  caribou, 
returning  at  6  p.  m.,  with  the  report  that  no 
game  had  been  found  but  that  some  fresh  caribou 
tracks  were  seen  to  adorn  the  otherwise  very 
unattractive  terrene.  In  the  afternoon  Harry 
and  I  took  our  horses  on  a  ten-mile  hunt  up  Camp 
Creek,  but  without  result. 

On  the  morning  of  August  24th  at  5  we  were 
routed  out  of  bed  by  Jimmie's  salubrious  call. 
Our  fighting  army  on  this  occasion  was  rep- 
resented by  Harry  James,  Wm.  James,  Billy 
Wooden  and  Bill  Longley  in  one  aggregation, 

110 


ON  THE  SHEEP  RANGES 

and  by  Cap  and  me  in  the  other.  It  was  planned 
that  Unit  No.  i,  composed  of  the  afore-men- 
tioned hunters,  should  split  at  a  convenient 
point  on  Figgins  Mountain,  thereby  giving  them 
the  advantage  of  surrounding  the  helpless  game 
and  getting  at  one  fell  swoop  what  was  desired 
for  our  museum  and  other  museums  yet  unborn. 
This  was  to  be  a  red-letter  day  to  make  up  for 
the  first  fluke  pulled  off  on  this  summit  a  few 
days  previously.  Cap  and  I,  with  colors  flying 
and  spirits  simply  effervescing  with  anticipation 
at  what  an  awful  calamity  would  befall  the  in- 
nocent victims  of  Figgins  Mountain  on  this  day, 
marched  gloriously  toward  the  opposite  side  of 
the  hill  from  that  for  which  our  companions  were 
destined.  As  we  all  crossed  the  boundary  after 
fording  the  White,  our  hunting  today  was  in 
Yukon  Territory. 

After  separating  from  our  companions  Cap 
and  I  followed  the  old  Boundary  Survey  trail 
until  we  reached  the  draw  up  which  we  had  de- 
cided to  travel.  Up  to  this  point  the  going  was 
miserable — the  "nigger-heads,"  hummocks  and 
swampy  ground  making  it  very  difficult  and  ner- 
vous work  for  the  horses.  While  we  were  slowly 
riding  up  the  draw  leading  thru  the  foothills  of 
our  mountain  Cap  suddenly  stopped  and  waved 
me  back.  "Sheep!"  he  exclaimed,  dismounting 
and  leading  his  horse  behind  a  protecting  ridge. 
The  glasses  showed  that  his  guess  was  correct, 
for  a  half  mile  away  and  1,000  feet  above  was 

in 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS       ' 

seen  a  band  of  six  or  seven  rams.  But  they  had 
selected  a  great  outlook  point  and  we  almost 
despaired  of  ever  being  able  to  reach  them. 

We  tied  our  horses  at  timberline  and  climbed 
a  3OO-foot  ridge  to  spy  on  them  and  figure  out  a 
means  of  approach.  We  found  that  by  dropping 
down  a  little  to  our  left  we  could  gain  the  pro- 
tection of  a  friendly  ridge,  behind  which  it  looked 
like  we  could  climb  pretty  close  to  them.  While 
crossing  the  gulch  to  this  ridge  we  opened  up 
some  new  country  next  to  where  the  rams  lay, 
on  the  slopes  of  which  we  saw  some  ewes  and 
lambs,  and  which  seemed  easier  for  us  to  stalk 
than  the  rams.  As  we  needed  lambs,  an  ewe 
and  some  2-  or  3-year-olds  for  our  groups,  we 
decided  it  would  be  a  nice  pick-up  to  get 
within  range  of  these,  so  we  bent  our  energies 
accordingly.  After  an  hour  of  hard  climbing, 
first  up  the  gulch  and  then  up  the  side-hill,  we 
found  ourselves  on  the  side  of  the  ridge  over- 
looking the  sheep.  This  side-hill  was  almost  a 
precipice  in  steepness,  and  to  make  it  worse,  it 
was  composed  of  loose  shale  rock  with  the  wind 
blowing  directly  toward  our  quarry.  For  the 
wind  might  not  only  figure  as  a  factor  in  scent 
carrying,  but  in  sound  carrying  as  well.  The 
piercing  cold  wind  at  the  summit  of  this  ridge 
seemed  to  transform  our  sweaty  shirts  into  icy 
incrustations.  It  certainly  did  crystallize  the 
drops  of  moisture  that  fell  from  our  chins,  noses 
and  eyebrows  into  temporary  jewel  drops. 

112 


ON  THE  SHEEP  RANGES 

When  we  looked  over  the  top  of  this  ridge  our 
game  was  gone.  Evidently  the  sound  of  the 
sliding  rocks  had  betrayed  us.  We  considered 
it  a  hard  streak  of  luck,  after  the  long  stalk  and 
the  hard,  wearisome  climb,  which  consumed 
hours  of  time. 

We  therefore  began  a  further  ascent  in  an  at- 
tempt to  come  out  above  the  sheep  first  seen  by 
us.  But  while  rounding  the  mountain  under  the 
rim  that  crowned  its  summit  we  glanced  down 
the  ridge  and  saw  a  ram  standing  on  a  point  of 
rocks  about  a  quarter  mile  away  and  500  feet 
drop  below  us.  What  should  we  do?  Go  after 
this  ram  or  the  bunch  we  were  stalking  when  we 
saw  it?  Cap  was  in  favor  of  the  former  plan — I 
the  latter — but  I  gave  in,  so  we  sneaked,  slid  and 
fell  down  toward  the  ram — for  it  was  rough  going 
— keeping,  of  course,  out  of  sight  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  ridge. 

When  we  reached  the  rugged  projection  on 
which  we  had  seen  the  ram,  Cap  looked  over,  then 
drew  back  hurriedly  with  the  excited  remark 
that  he  was  lying  almost  directly  below  us,  40 
yards  away.  Breathless,  for  fear  he  might  be  up 
and  away,  I  bent  over  just  in  time  to  see  him  rise 
from  his  bed.  While  he  was  standing  I  fired,  be- 
ing fearful  of  hitting  the  rocky  projections  inter- 
vening. As  soon  as  I  pulled  the  trigger  I  knew  I 
had  overshot.  He  bounded  away  in  a  mad  rush 
amidst  the  bombardment  of  both  Cap  and  my- 
self, and  altho  I  fired  four  more  shots  at  him 

"3 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

and  six  pellets  were  sent  from  Cap's  gun, 
all  on  the  run,  he  was  soon  safe  behind  the 
rim  below  us. 

I  was  of  course  all  broken  up  at  my  absolute 
carelessness.  Cap  felt  it,  too,  very  keenly.  It 
proved  the  correctness  of  the  old  shooting  adage 
— never  be  too  sure  nor  too  quick  in  shooting  at 
game.  We  both  ran  to  the  hump  below,  around 
which  he  disappeared,  but  the  mountain  scenery 
and  a  blue  sky  was  all  we  had  punctured.  Later 
we  saw  him  slowly  picking  his  way  up  a  ridge  a 
mile  to  the  south  of  us.  His  route  would  cross 
our  proposed  path  to  the  horses  about  a  half 
mile  ahead,  so,  with  the  sole  consolation  that  we 
might  meet  him  while  returning,  we  allowed  our- 
selves to  get  swallowed  in  the  gulches  out  of  sight 
of  him.  However,  he  must  have  seen  us  and 
dropped  back  into  the  timber,  as  subsequent 
events  proved.  After  an  hour's  hard  climbing 
and  down-sliding,  too,  we  reached  the  horses  at 
5  o'clock  at  the  edge  of  timber,  and  were  soon 
traveling  camp-ward.  It  felt  good  to  sit  in  the 
saddle  again  after  so  much  hard  climbing  and 
scouting.  We  were  both  on  the  lookout  for  our 
ram  while  descending  thru  the  timber.  We 
hadn't  traveled  a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  Cap, 
who  was  leading,  gave  a  motion  of  silence,  and 
we  slid  off  our  horses.  With  the  glasses  I  saw  the 
ram  in  the  small  timber.  He  was  huddled  under 
a  spruce  that  stood  amidst  the  young  balm  of 
gilead  trees.  Were  it  snowing,  or  raining,  one 

114 


ON  THE  SHEEP  RANGES 

would  imagine,  by  his  position,  that  he  had  been 
driven  there  by  the  storm. 

Cap  had  told  me  before  of  the  habits  of  rams 
in  sometimes  hiding  like  this,  but  before  me  thru 
the  glasses,  as  I  peered  between  the  heavy  foli- 
age ahead,  I  saw  the  most  perfect  example  of  the 
hunted  ram  driven  in  fear  to  his  hiding  place. 

We  planned  that  I  should  climb  the  hill  back 
of  him  by  a  roundabout  course  (he  was  500  yards 
away)  and  come  down  on  him  from  behind  and 
above.  Cap  was  to  lie  in  ambush  where  we  then 
were,  and  we  figured  it  out  that  if  F  frightened 
him  I  would  run  him  toward  Cap.  After  an 
hour's  climbing  and  stalking  I  had  circled  back 
of  him,  and  to  my  disgust  I  found  that  it  was 
impossible  to  approach  closer  without  making 
some  noise  in  the  loose  sliderock;  also  that  he 
was  down-wind  from  me.  While  coming  down 
upon  his  position  from  the  rear  I  heard  Cap's 
rifle  crack  three  times,  and  when  I  heard  his 
shout  I  knew  the  ram  was  down. 

Cap  had  gone  to  sleep  during  my  long  stalk, 
and  was  suddenly  awakened  by  the  noise  of  the 
fleeing  ram  thru  the  brush  as  it  passed  within 
fifteen  feet  of  him.  Grabbing  his  rifle,  he  placed 
two  shots  out  of  three  in  the  animal  at  about  100 
yards  while  it  was  traveling  from  him.  When 
he  reached  the  ram  he  found  it  down,  the  .250 
having  smashed  one  hip  and  one  shoulder  ter- 
ribly. Yet  that  seemingly  invincible  ram  sat 
with  his  head  up  and  eyes  animated,  apparently 

"5 


y 


IN  THE  ALASKA. YUKON  GAMELANDS 

very  full  of  life,  until  Cap  cut  his  throat,  not  wish- 
ing to  bullet-mangle  him  any  more.  He  was 
about  a  five-year-old — with  hardly  a  full  curve  of 
horn — therefore  a  smaller  ram  than  we  took  him 
to  be  when  first  seen  and  fired  upon.  By  8 
o'clock  we  had  him  measured  and  skinned  and 
meat  and  all  packed  on  the  horses.  We  arrived 
at  camp  at  1 1  :A$,  preceding  the  balance  of  the 
party  to  camp  by  half  an  hour.  Jimmy  arose 
from  sleep  and  gave  us  hot  soup  and  a  fine  supper 
of  sheep  meat,  potatoes  and  other  good  things. 

When  the  other  four  hunters  came  in  at  12:15 
a.  m.  they  were  given  a  hearty  reception,  espe- 
cially after  they  unbosomed  the  pleasing  infor- 
mation that  they  had  separated  the  spirits  of 
six  perfectly  healthy  sheep  from  their  earthly 
coils.  Needless  to  say,  they  were,  like  us,  hun- 
gry, cold  and  tired,  but  there  wasn't  anything 
the  matter  with  them  that  a  hot  supper  couldn't 
cure. 

After  separating  from  Cap  and  me  in  the 
morning  they  traveled  to  the  farthest  end  of  the 
mountain  (some  five  miles  beyond  the  point 
reached  by  us).  At  10  o'clock  they  tied  their 
horses  at  timberline  and  all  climbed  together  to 
the  summit,  where  it  seems  they  had  seen  a  bunch 
of  sheep  while  riding  up.  It  took  them  until 
4:30  p.  m.  to  stalk  their  game  and  get  close 
enough  to  shoot.  While  climbing  the  mountain 
they  passed  within  300  yards  of  two  splendid 
rams,  but  they  were  playing  for  bigger  stakes,  as 

116 


ON  THE  SHEEP  RANGES 

there  were  170  sheep  in  one  flock  ahead  and  some 
forty  in  another — so  they  passed  up  the  rams. 

While  in  the  vicinity  of  the  large  flock  Harry 
and  Longley  stopped  at  a  rock  to  wait  until 
William  and  Wooden  should  get  to  their  position 
close  to  the  small  bunch,  before  attempting  to 
fire.  When  William  and  his  guide  reached  a  good 
position  they  were  rewarded  with  standing  shots 
at  100  yards,  after  cork-screwing,  crawling  and 
worming  their  way  over  some  very  rough  and 
dangerous  places.  William  opened  up  first, 
bringing  down  a  big  ewe,  and  wounding  a  lamb 
which  Wooden  finished.  Then  Wooden  fired, 
killing  a  2-year-old  and  a  j-year-old  and  bringing 
down  an  ewe  with  an  assisting  shot  from  William. 
This  gave  William  and  Billy  five  sheep. 

Harry  by  this  time  was  getting  anxious  about 
his  bunch.  Soon  he  heard  sounds  like  the  bark- 
ing of  dogs  emanating  from  the  direction  of  his 
son  and  Wooden.  These  boys  were  sure  barking, 
their  object  being  to  scare  the  sheep  toward 
Harry  and  Longley,  who  were  hidden  behind  a 
rock  waiting  for  the  opportune  time  to  open  fire. 
This  camouflage  succeeded  admirably,  for  the 
flock  was  sent  close  enough  to  the  hunters  so 
that  Harry  was  able  to  open  up  on  them  at  100 
yards.  He  brought  down  an  ewe  in  splendid 
style,  which  gave  them  all  a  total  of  six  sheep 
for  their  day's  work,  which  with  Cap's  ram  made 
a  grand  total  of  seven — by  far  the  best  record  of 
any  day's  work  on  the  whole  trip. 

"7 


Sixth 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  YUKON 

This  is  the  law  of  the  Yukon,  and  ever  she  makes  it  plain : 

"  Send  not  your  foolish  and  feeble ;   send  me  your  strong  and  your 

sane — 

Strong  for  the  red  rage  of  battle ;  sane,  for  I  harry  them  sore ; 
Send  me  men  girt  for  the  combat,  men  who  are  grit  to  the  core ; 
Swift  as  the  panther  in  triumph,  fierce  as  the  bear  in  defeat, 
Sired  of  a  bulldog  parent,  steeled  in  the  furnace  heat. 
Send  me  the  best  of  your  breeding,  lend  me  your  chosen  ones ; 
Them  will  I  take  to  my  bosom,  them  will  I  call  my  sons ; 
Them  will  I  gild  with  my  treasure,  them  will  I  glut  with  my  meat ; 
But  the  others — the  misfits,  the  failures — I  trample  under  my  feet." 

— Robert  Service. 


SIXTH  CHAPTER 
SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

should  hardly  have  been  human  if 
we  were  not  tired  the  next  morning — in 
fact,  we  arose  about  how  and  when  we 
pleased.  This  long-distance  hunting  was  begin- 
ning to  "get"  us,  for  where  the  James  branch  of 
our  party  hunted  yesterday  it  was  eleven  miles 
from  camp.  That  was  much  too  far  to  travel 
and  hunt,  especially  as  it  necessitated  returning 
to  camp  at  midnight,  besides  another  trip  next 
day  by  the  packers  for  the  hides,  bones  and  meat. 
This  could  have  been  avoided  to  a  great  extent 
by  side  packs  from  main  camp  into  closer  prox- 
imity to  the  game — a  plan  that  both  Harry  and  I 
adopted  when  we  hunted  in  this  section  on  our 
return  trip. 

Longley,  Rogers,  Wooden  and  Shorty  left 
camp  at  9  o'clock  to  get  the  skins  and  meat  of 
five  of  the  sheep  killed  the  day  previous  (Harry's 
sheep  hide  and  meat  having  been  taken  in  with 
the  hunting  party).  These  boys  also  hoped  to 
get  a  ram  or  two  from  among  those  that  had 
been  seen  the  day  before.  At  7  p.  m.  Longley 
and  Rogers  returned  to  camp,  reporting  that 

121 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

they  had  left  Wooden 's  and  Shorty's  horses  at 
an  agreed-upon  spot,  owing  to  the  inability  of 
the  latter  men  to  come  off  the  mountain  with 
their  companions. 

All  those  of  us  who  were  not  engaged  in  hunt- 
ing or  going  after  the  meat  and  hides  loafed 
about  camp  that  day,  cleaning  up,  shaving,  writ- 
ing, oiling  guns,  etc.  It  was  a  disagreeable  day, 
even  with  us  in  a  comfortable  camp,  and  the  non- 
appearance  of  the  two  men  worried  us. 

It  started  to  drizzle  and  snow  about  2  p.  m. 
and  was  raining  when  Rogers  and  Longley  came 
in.  It  rained  nearly  all  that  night  in  camp.  At 
1 1 130  p.  m.  Wooden  rode  into  camp  and  reported 
that  he  and  Shorty  had  wounded  a  ram,  and 
that  they  followed  it  a  couple  of  miles  thru  the 
cliffs,  but  without  success  in  finding  it.  When  it 
came  time  to  leave  for  camp  they  had  to  go  back 
and  up  about  two  miles  to  where  their  horses 
had  been  left  by  Rogers  and  Longley,  so  Shorty 
suggested  that  he  take  a  short-cut  down  to  the 
trail  and  that  Wooden  go  after  the  horses  and 
pick  him  up  on  the  way  in.  So  they  separated. 
It  was  7  o'clock  when  Wooden  got  to  the  horses. 
When  ne  reached  a  point  on  his  course  where 
he  thought  Shorty  ought  to  be  he  hallooed,  fired 
his  rifle  and  then  waited.  Then  he  repeated  the 
same  act  again  and  again,  waiting  a  reasonable 
time  after  each  signal  for  a  response.  Receiving 
none,  and  believing  that  Shorty  had  walked 


122 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

ahead  in  the  hope  of  being  caught  up  with, 
Wooden  rode  into  camp. 

I  awoke  in  the  night  with  a  start  after  having 
heard  the  challenge  of  a  bull  moose.  After 
awaking  I  still  continued  to  hear  the  same 
"Waug-g-h,"  and  was  about  to  jump  up  and 
get  my  gun  when  the  author  of  the  noise  must 
nave  turned  over  on  his  side — for  it  was  Harry 
snoring.  Next  the  mournful  cry  of  Shorty's  dog, 
Jimmie,  broke  the  stillness.  Who  would  have 
thought  that  this  hardened  malamute,  who 
braved  the  rush  of  the  stream  and  the  rigors  of 
the  winter  cold  without  a  murmur,  would  feel 
the  heart-pangs  of  loneliness  at  the  loss  of  his 
master  for  one  night?  But  that  old  wolf-dog 
sobbed  out  his  soul-grief  in  the  most  piercing, 
mournful  doles,  telling  plainer  than  human 
words  of  his  sorrowful  affliction.  I  arose  and 
partly  dressed,  thinking  that  I  might  comfort 
him  and  at  the  same  time  stop  the  noise  that 
sooner  or  later  would  awaken  everyone  in  camp. 
He  was  sitting  on  his  haunches  under  a  tree  by 
the  saddle-stack  as  I  emerged  from  my  tent,  but 
when  he  saw  me  he  came  swiftly  to  my  side, 
tail  a-wagging.  Never  had  I  seen  him  so  affec- 
tionate. When  I  rubbed  his  coarse-furred  head 
and  offered  sympathy,  he  cried  again  and  poured 
out  his  grief  in  those  same  piteous  tones  I  had 
heard  before,  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 

While  stooping  over  him  I  thought  I  caught  a 


123 


IN  THE  ALASKA- YUKON  GAMELANDS 

flash  to  my  right,  and,  looking  up,  was  surprised 
to  see  a  very  fair  demonstration  of  the  Northern 
Lights.  Apparently  it  had  continued  to  rain 
during  the  night  up  to  a  short  time  previous  to 
my  arising,  as  everything  in  camp  was  freshly 
wet.  But  now  the  rain  had  ceased  and  it  was 
quite  cold  for  an  August  night.  (When  morning 
broke  and  the  hills  were  covered  with  snow,  and 
a  slow  drizzle  was  in  evidence  at  camp,  I  realized 
that  the  cessation  from  rain  during  the  night  had 
probably  been  of  but  short  duration.) 

While  the  extravagant  color  effect  described 
so  lavishly  by  some  writers  was  lacking,  yet  the 
form  of  the  lights  was  clearly  visible.  They  took 
the  shape  of  wide,  filmy  ribbons  stretched  from 
nearly  overhead  and  radiating  downward.  The 
center  of  the  illumination  was  the  north  and 
about  midway  between  the  north  star  and  the 
horizon.  In  tangent  form  it  spread  downward 
lik£  a  great  fan  to  the  northeast  and  the  north- 
west, intermittently  changing — disappearing  and 
reappearing — but  all  in  such  delicate  shades  as 
to  DC  only  faintly  outlined.  There  wasn't  to  be 
seen  a  rainbow  tint  in  the  whole  effect,  the  colors 
being  of  the  grayish  or  misty  order.  It  was  the 
only  demonstration  of  these  lights  that  I  was 
able  to  witness  on  the  whole  trip,  they  showing 
more  frequently  and  more  brilliantly  at  other 
seasons  of  the  year,  I  am  told. 

When  morning  came  and  there  was  no  Shorty 
in  camp,  all  but  the  sourdoughs  felt  keen  appre- 

124 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

hension  for  his  safety.  Visions  of  a  crippled 
Alaskan  lying  out  under  a  tree  in  the  cold  and 
snow  began  to  appear  before  us.  "The  old  rat," 
muttered  Cap  in  a  jocular  vein.  "You  couldn't 
hurt  that  old  gopher!  He  curled  himself  under 
a  tree  last  night  and  is  only  waiting  this  morning 
for  the  sun  to  dry  the  bushes.  Then  he'll  come 
out  of  his  hole  like  a  prairie-dog  and  amble  into 
camp." 

But  Cap's  words  didn't  console  us,  and  we 
insisted  on  his  sending  someone  out  to  hunt  for 
Shorty.  Such  a  thing  as  a  broken  leg  or  arm  or 
other  injury  in  the  hills  is  too  common,  we 
thought,  to  allow  us  to  forget  him.  Longley  and 
Wooden  were  sent  out  across  the  White  and  over 
the  boggy  tundras  where  Shorty  and  Wooden 
hunted  the  previous  day,  but  in  a  couple  of 
hours  they  returned,  soaked  to  the  skin,  with 
the  report  that  he  couldn't  be  found.  The  moun- 
tains were  white  with  snow,  as  well  as  the  trees 
near  timberline,  and  without  chaps  one  was  sure 
to  get  soaked  from  the  wet  and  snow-covered 
bushes  and  trees. 

At  10  o'clock  Longley  and  Wooden  were  again 
asked  to  go  look  for  Shorty,  so  they  departed. 
At  1 1 130  we  saw  the  three  crossing  the  White  a 
mile  or  two  away,  and  our  relief  was  inexpres- 
sible. When  he  came  in,  Shorty  explained  that, 
having  missed  Billy  Wooden  the  evening  before, 
he  preferred  to  si  wash  it  under  a  tree  for  the 
night  rather  than  wade  thru  the  wet  underbrush 

125 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

in  the  rain  and  snow  and  then  wade  the  White 
River  to  camp. 

As  the  morning  was  now  spent,  we  could  take 
no  long  hunting  trip  this  day,  so  Cap  and  I  took 
a  six-mile  horseback  jaunt  down  the  river  looking 
for  bears,  but  without  result  of  any  kind.  In 
fifteen  minutes  we  picked  enough  blueberries  to 
make  a  nice  pie. 

Harry  and  Brownie  went  up  the  Kletsan  for 
moose  and  caribou,  but  saw  nothing  in  the  big 
game  line. 

Jimmie's  "break-fawst !"  sounded  next  morn- 
ing at  5  o'clock,  as  we  decided  before  leaving  for 
other  camps  that  we  would  give  the  sheep 
another  round.  So  at  6:io  a.  m.  the  regular 
cavalcade  which  had  been  crossing  the  White 
River  so  frequently  during  the  past  week  was 
again  seen  to  worm  its  way  around  the  quick- 
sand beds  of  this  stream  and  then  climb  the  200- 
foot  bank  on  the  opposite  side,  headed  for  Fig- 
gins  Mountain.  In  the  mixed  procession  this 
morning  were  Harry  (accompanied  by  Longley 
and  Brownie),  William,  who  was  sponsored  by 
Wooden,  and  myself,  chaperoned  by  Cap.  We 
journeyed  to  the  farthest  end  of  the  mountain — 
near  where  the  James's  had  made  their  killing 
three  days  previously — with  the  exception  of 
William  and  Wooden,  who  dropped  out  of  the 
parade  about  half  way  along  the  mountain  in  the 
hope  of  intercepting  the  ram  that  Wooden  and 
Shorty  wounded  two  days  before. 

126 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

We  tied  our  horses  a  little  above  timberline 
and  separated,  Harry  and  his  guides  going  to  the 
left  up  the  mountain,  and  Cap  and  I  diverging 
from  the  route  of  our  companions  and  going  up 
the  hill  to  the  right.  We  all  met  at  the  boundary 
monument  on  the  summit,  Harry  reporting  that 
he  had  seen  a  sheep  in  the  basin  while  ascending. 
It  later  moved  out  of  sight  and,  as  he  didn't  con- 
sider the  country  inhabited  by  it  as  worth  hunt- 
ing, he  and  his  guides  continued  to  the  summit. 
We  saw  no  sheep  while  climbing  up.  From  the 
top  we  all  saw  a  band  of  about  thirty  to  the 
northeast,  but  too  far  away  to  go  after.  Other 
bunches  of  from  five  to  seven  were  also  seen  in 
the  same  direction,  all  below  us  and  far  away. 
Harry  was  discouraged,  and,  with  Brownie  and 
Longley,  departed  for  the  horses,  while  Cap  and 
I  decided  we  would  like  to  hunt  out  the  country 
they  had  just  covered,  as  well  as  some  farther 
ridges  contiguous  to  it,  in  the  hope  that  we  might 
run  across  the  sheep  that  they  had  seen.  So  we 
separated.  Before  we  had  gone  200  yards,  how- 
ever, we  saw  from  the  summit  three  sheep  about 
a  mile  away,  close  to  the  point  where  our  com- 
panions had  seen  the  single  sheep  while  ascend- 
ing. These  sheep  were  far  below  us,  so  we  went 
for  them.  In  aoout  half  an  hour  we  had  de- 
scended the  mountain  and  crawled  up  to  the  top 
of  the  ridge  which  lay  alongside  the  one  on  whicn 
they  were  feeding,  the  gulch  between  us.  Cap 
thought  they  weren't  over  200  yards  away,  but 

127 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

this  here  tenderfoot  would  have  bet  his  Water- 
bury  that  they  were  400,  and  so  informed  Cap 
midst  a  volley  of  warm  adjectives  from  him  that 
were  intended  to  tell  me  exactly  where  I  stood  as 
a  poor  judge  of  Alaska  distances. 

Cap  insisted  that  we  couldn't  possibly  get  any 
closer,  while  I  contended  just  as  strongly  that 
we  could.  A  week  or  two  later,  while  climbing 
up  the  same  ridge  that  these  sheep  were  on — on 
the  last  hunt  of  the  trip — I  proved  to  Cap  that 
we  could  have  stalked  them  from  the  gulch  and 
got  much  closer  than  we  did  on  this  occasion. 

After  I  had  lost  out  as  a  distance  guesser,  I 
argued  against  shooting  at  such  a  small  target 
as  a  lamb  (they  proved  to  be  a  ewe  and  two 
lambs,  but  we  needed  no  more  ewes)  at  that  dis- 
tance. Cap  was  worked  up  to  a  little  heat  over 
my  slowness  to  shoot,  so  I  decided  to  try.  I 
fired  at  one  of  the  lambs,  but  as  the  ground  was 
damp  I  couldn't  tell  where  I  was  hitting,  except 
that  I  missed  the  game.  Immediately  the 
mother  and  lambs  began  to  climb  to  higher 
ground  on  the  ridge.  We  each  fired  some  ten  or 
more  shots  at  the  fleeing  youngsters  when  we 
discovered  that  both  of  them  had  been  hit.  One 
laid  down  and  the  other  was  tottering.  Cap 
said,  "Don't  shoot  any  more."  Soon  the  other 
laid  down  also,  and  the  mother  looked  down  on 
them  with  concern  from  the  ridge  above.  We 
felt  sure  of  our  lambs,  and  were  much  pleased, 
as  they  were  just  what  we  needed  to  fill  in  on 

128 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

our  sheep  groups.  But  soon  one  arose  and  went 
away  with  apparently  a  broken  leg.  Then  the 
other  staggered  to  its  feet  and  walked  on.  The 
mother  went  ahead,  urging  them  with  all  her 
motherly  devotion  to  follow.  But  the  sick  lamb 
held  back.  The  one  with  the  broken  leg  (we  sur- 
mised it  was  broken  from  its  actions)  crossed  the 
gulch  and  climbed  in  its  poor  way  the  steep  hill- 
side to  the  left.  During  all  this  time  we  followed 
as  fast  as  our  pumping  lungs  and  thumping 
hearts  would  permit,  some  500  or  600  yards  to 
their  rear.  (While  crossing  the  gulch  after  them 
Cap  remarked  that  I  was  wrong  when  I  guessed 
the  distance  at  which  we  began  shooting  to  be 
400  yards,  saying  it  was  at  least  500.)  Before 
we  could  climb  within  range  of  the  crippled 
lamb  both  it  and  its  mother  had  gone  over  the 
summit  a  half-mile  away. 

Then  we  began  searching  for  the  sick  lamb. 
I  climbed  the  rocky  hill  opposite  in  order  to  get 
a  better  survey  of  the  field  where  the  youngster 
was  last  seen,  using  the  glasses  carefully.  Cap 
remained  on  the  other  side  and  looked  over  the 
ground  carefully,  finally  hunting  out  of  my  sight 
behind  the  ridge.  Then  I  heard  the  report  of  his 
rifle  and  concluded  he  had  fetched  up  with  the 
lamb.  However,  I  divined  differently  when  I 
saw  four  sheep — two  rams,  a  ewe  and  a  lamb, 
the  latter  our  sick  lamb  suddenly  come  to  life — 
climbing  the  ridge  above  him.  Then  I  knew  he 
was  shooting  at  one  of  their  number,  especially 

129 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

as  I  heard  other  shots  later.  After  moving  a  little 
to  my  right  I  located  Cap  and  the  object  of  his 
fire,  a  ram,  in  the  gulch  a  half-mile  away.  I 
hurriedly  went  to  him  and  found  he  had  a  nice 
5-year-old  ram  down.  In  body  it  was  a  beau- 
tiful, large  animal — the  largest  we  killed  on  the 
trip — but  his  horns  weren't  long  enough  to  form 
quite  a  complete  turn.  I  estimated  his  weight 
at  300  pounds,  my  comparison  being  made  with 
an  ovis  canadensis  killed  by  me  in  Wyoming 
once  that  weighed  under  the  scales  325  pounds. 
It  was  4  o'clock  when  I  reached  Cap  and  his 
ram.  We  were  nine  miles  from  camp,  and  as  we 
were  to  move  on  the  morrow  it  was  necessary 
that  we  carry  meat  and  all  in.  We  measured  it 
and  skinned  it  out,  taking  the  good  meat,  there 
being  not  much  owing  to  the  manner  in  which 
Cap  had  pulverized  it  with  his  .250.  It  seems 
after  first  wounding  it  the  animal  stood,  very 
sick,  instead  of  attempting  to  lie  down — a  quite 
common  thing  for  a  goat  or  a  sheep  to  do,  con- 
trary to  the  members  of  the  deer  family,  who 
will  lie  down  more  readily.  Cap  was  a  little  dis- 
appointed over  the  size  of  the  animal's  horns, 
but  was  good  enough  to  immediately  then  and 
there  offer  to  the  museum  a  beautiful  set  of  ovis 
dalli  horns  that  he  had  at  home  and  which  he 
had  planned  on  using  some  day  for  himself  when 
he  should  find  a  cape  to  suit  them.  These  horns, 
being  larger  than  any  we  secured  on  the  trip, 
were  greatly  appreciated,  and  I  thanked  Cap 

130 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

with  all  my  heart  for  his  generous  present. 
These  horns  now  adorn  that  identical  hide  in 
our  museum,  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that 
in  the  completed  state  it  is  the  largest  and  most 
beautiful  ovis  dalli  ram  I  have  ever  seen,  either 
in  plaster  or  flesh. 

We  were  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  horses, 
but  by  carefully  distributing  the  load  of  meat, 
horns,  hides,  guns,  cameras  and  glasses,  we  only 
had  to  rest  under  it  two  or  three  times  on  the 
way  to  our  most  welcome  cayuses.  It  was  a 
boggy,  marshy,  bad  ride  to  camp,  but  Cap 
whisked  us  down  so  that  we  made  it  at  9:55 
p.  m. — the  last  hour  in  the  dark  thru  the  timber. 

Next  morning — August  28th — we  packed  up 
and  at  ii  o'clock  left  our  Kletsan  camp,  where 
for  seven  days  we  had  hunted  moose  and  caribou 
without  success  and  white  sheep  with  very  good 
results.  We  journeyed  up  the  Kletsan  about 
two  miles,  then  entered  the  timber  to  the  east- 
ward and  crossed  the  Yukon  boundary,  reaching 
our  camp  on  the  Generc,  ten  miles  above  its 
junction  with  the  White,  about  7  o'clock.  Our 
camp  was  made  in  a  pretty  timbered  spot  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  Generc  and  across  it, 
by  the  side  of  a  small,  clear  stream,  with  the 
St.  Clair  about  half  a  mile  east  of  us.  Distance 
traveled  for  the  day,  eighteen  miles. 

W7hile  traveling  up  the  Kletsan  this  morning 
from  our  sheep  camp  we  noticed  along  the  edge 
of  the  forest  where  it  borders  the  river  bar  a 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

fence  constructed  of  spruce  saplings  tied  to  the 
trees  of  the  forest  with  bark  and  willow  thongs. 
We  were  told  that  this  fence — probably  four  or 
five  feet  high,  of  two  or  three  stringers— was 
built  by  the  Indians  and  used  by  them  and  others 
to  corral  the  caribou  on  their  migrating  trips, 
then  to  slaughter  them  for  their  meat  and  hides. 
How  true  this  is  we  had  no  absolute  means  of 
knowing,  but  of  one  thing  we  felt  certain — the 
fence  was  built  by  Indians,  as  it  bore  all  the  ear- 
marks of  their  work.  It  was  old  and  broken 
down  in  many  places,  probably  having  been 
built  twenty  years  or  more  ago. 

During  the  Klondike  rush  the  market  hunting 
of  caribou  around  Dawson  was  carried  on  very 
extensively.  As  many  as  sixty-four  horses, 
some  twenty-odd  years  ago,  each  drawing  a  set 
of  three  double-ender  sleighs,  each  sleigh  loaded 
with  four  caribou,  have  been  seen  on  the  water- 
shed between  the  Yukon  and  McKenzie  rivers 
(headwaters  of  Klondike  river),  carrying  the 
carcasses  to  Dawson.  This  would  make  768 
caribou  to  a  train.  These  caribou  were  sold  to 
miners  and  prospectors  on  the  creeks  around 
Dawson,  and  in  Dawson,  at  20  to  35  cents  a 
pound.  The  tongues  were  preserved  and  sent 
out  of  the  country.  Beef  sold  then  for  $1.25  a 
pound. 

About  September  each  year  the  annual  migra- 
tion of  caribou  occurs.  At  that  time  they  leave 
their  summer  home  in  the  tundra-covered 

132 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

ground,  between  the  mouth  of  the  McKenzie 
and  Pt.  Barrow,  and  drift  south.  The  first 
snows  drift  in  there  so  deep  that  they  can't  paw 
it  from  the  tundra  and  muskeg,  and  they  drift 
to  the  better  feeding  grounds  below.  So  down 
they  come  in  hundreds  of  thousands,  passing  in 
their  southern  flight  the  head  of  Peel  River, 
head  of  Stewart  River,  head  of  Klondike,  Pelly 
and  McMillan,  as  far  south  as  Lake  Atlin.  This 
drive  usually  follows  the  same  route,  covering 
in  the  migration  a  space  about  twenty  miles 
wide.  There  are  other  bands  of  caribou  inhabit- 
ing the  northwest  part  of  Alaska  (say,  north  of 
the  Kyukuk  range)  that  migrate  similarly  to  the 
mainland  just  mentioned,  and  that  cross  the 
Yukon  River  at  different  points,  and  that  have 
been  seen  by  the  thousands  traveling  thru  Circle 
City,  Fairbanks  and  Fortymile.  They  go  south 
of  Fairbanks  and  begin  to  return,  as  do  the  big 
band,  about  April  or  May.  They  calve  in  June, 
right  in  the  tundra.  They  don't  always  return 
by  the  same  route,  but  generally  so,  and  go  in  a 
slow,  straggling,  unorganized  manner  as  com- 
pared to  that  which  characterizes  their  southern 
journey,  when  they  go  fast,  each  bunch  appar- 
ently trying  to  get  ahead  of  the  other.  The 
Hudson  Bay  Company  used  to  ship  before  the 
Klondike  rush  from  1,800  to  2,000  barrels  of 
"deer  tongue"  (caribou)  annually  to  Great 
Slave,  Lesser  Slave  Lake,  etc.,  from  there  to 
be  shipped  to  Canada  and  England. 

'33 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

While  all  these  things  are  sad  to  reflect  upon  at 
the  present  time,  twenty  years  later,  yet  in 
twenty  years  from  now  we  will  feel  just  as  much 
ashamed  of  what  is  occurring  in  Alaska  and 
other  places  now  as  we  now  are  at  what  happened 
then.  While  much  has  been  said  of  the  Indians' 
good  habits  of  conserving  game  by  eating  every 
ounce  of  meat  killed,  etc.,  yet  after  what  I 
learned  of  his  ways  while  in  the  North  I  am  com- 
pelled to  believe  that  his  conservation  is  not  so 
much  a  matter  of  habit  as  of  necessity.  When 
his  larder  is  low  and  his  stomach  empty,  it  is 
surprising  what  he  will  eat — the  scraps,  entrails, 
fat  and  every  portion  of  the  animal.  But  let 
"Poor  Lo"  get  a  chance  to  kill  a  band  of  caribou, 
sheep  or  moose,  when  the  hides  and  horns  are  of 
commercial  value,  and  he  forgets  when  it  is  time 
to  quit  shooting,  often  completely  obliterating  a 
herd  before  he  is  thru.  That  is  when  his  great 
waste  of  meat  is  shown,  as,  naturally,  most  of  it 
is  left  to  rot. 

The  morning  following  our  arrival  on  the 
Generc,  Harry  and  Brownie  left  at  8  o'clock,  go- 
ing up  the  little  stream  at  our  door,  with  the 
announcement  that  they  would  bring  in  a  bull 
moose.  Cap  and  I  went  over  to  the  St.  Clair, 
followed  it  up  several  miles,  and  returned  by  the 
stream  up  which  Harry  had  gone  in  the  morning. 
Some  bear  tracks  and  a  porcupine  were  about 
all  of  any  general  interest  that  anyone  saw.  We 
had  some  amusement  with  the  porcupine.  We 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

stood  stark  still  when  we  first  saw  it  twenty-five 
feet  away.  It  started  to  whine;  we  imitated  the 
noise  and  it  turned  and  came  up  to  within  four 
feet  of  us,  sitting  up  on  its  haunches  like  a  dog. 
I  took  several  pictures  of  it  at  four  and  five  feet. 

William,  Billy  and  Rogers  went  out  for  moose 
in  the  afternoon.  The  biggest  game  they  saw 
was  a  porcupine. 

This  camp  and  the  small  indication  of  sign 
about  it  was  a  great  disappointment  to  us,  as  we 
had  confidently  expected  to  find  moose  and  bear 
here.  Therefore,  it  didn't  take  us  long  to  decide 
to  move.  The  Young  party,  the  year  before, 
had  been  very  successful  on  moose  and  caribou 
in  this  vicinity,  and,  as  we  had  seen  several 
moose  while  riding  into  this  camp  on  the  evening 
of  our  arrival,  everything  at  first  augured  well 
for  a  successful  hunt  in  that  vicinity. 

At  1 1  o'clock  the  next  morning,  after  packing 
up,  we  silently  and  sadly  stole  away,  entertaining 
some  hope  that  game  would  be  found  on  Harris 
Creek,  a  tributary  of  the  Generc,  flowing  into  it 
a  couple  of  miles  or  so  below  our  camp.  The 
weather  was  now  beautiful,  being  sunny  and 
warm,  and  the  scenery  sublime,, 

R.  B.  Slaughter,  of  1 10  West  Monroe  street, 
Chicago,  in  1912,  on  Harris  Creek,  killed  a  car- 
ibou head  the  beam  of  which  measured  65 
inches,  having  sixty-four  points.  He  also  secured 
an  ovis  dalli  on  Mt.  Natazhat  with  a 
base  and  44>£-inch  curl. 


IN  THE  ALASKA- YUKON  GAMELANDS 

We  journeyed  twelve  miles  up  Harris  Creek 
thru  the  greatest  moose  country  that  I  have 
ever  seen,  to  be  untenanted.  Where  had  they 
gone?  Shorty  surmised  possibly  they  were  down 
on  the  Snag,  some  forty  miles  below.  Others 
believed  they  were  yet  too  high  to  hunt  success- 
fully, and  that  when  they  came  down  we  would 
get  them.  Many  conjectures  were  offered  as  to 
the  possible  whereabouts  of  the  herds  and  the 
cause  of  their  disappearance,  but  none  of  the 
advice  seemed  to  do  us  any  good.  We  were  a 
week  earlier  than  the  Young  party  the  year  be- 
fore, and  that  was  offered  as  a  possible  excuse. 
Yet,  in  corresponding  with  our  guide  before  the 
trip  he  had  urgently  requested  us  to  come  a  week 
before  we  did,  so  if  we  were  now  too  early,  the 
question  arose,  how  on  earth  would  we  have 
fared  should  we  have  gone  still  a  week  sooner? 
It  was  away  ahead  of  the  rutting  season,  and 
that  naturally  militated  some  against  us,  but 
what  should  we  care  about  rutting  seasons  in 
Alaska,  we  thought  before  leaving,  where  moose 
are  so  plentiful?  We  had  simply  run  against  a 
streak  of  hard  luck,  and  at  the  time  we  felt  that 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  make  the  best  of 
it.  Certainly  we  were  willing  hunters,  for  there 
wasn't  a  drone  in  our  own  party  nor  in  the  party 
of  our  outfitters.  The  horse  wranglers,  headed 
by  Billy  Longley,  were  up  every  morning  at  4 
o'clock  to  go  for  the  horses;  Jimmie,  the  cook, 
usually  rose  about  4:30,  while  our  own  party 

136 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

were  astir  about  5:30  on  the  average.  As  we 
were  out  hunting  late  of  nights  very  often,  it 
may  be  seen  that  we  at  least  "done  time"  while 
on  the  trip. 

What  surprised  me  most  was  the  almost  total 
absence  of  fresh  bear  sign  (there  was  plenty  of 
old).  The  bears  apparently  were  not  wild — to 
see  us — and,  on  the  other  hand,  we  were  getting 
so  wild  and  wary  of  bear  toward  the  end  of  the 
trip  that  I  believe  we  would  have  run  from  a  cub. 
Which  reminds  me  of  a  fake  foot  racer  of  Wyo- 
ming who  later  turned  bear  hunter.  He  had 
thrown  many  running  matches,  as  it  seemed  the 
only  way  he  could  make  a  success  of  the  game; 
so  one  day  while  hunting  Bruin  with  a  friend  a 
bear  took  after  him,  running  him  pretty  close  to 
his  friend,  who  was  a  surgeon.  As  he  went  by 
in  the  hottest  race  he  had  ever  run  the  doctor 
called  from  a  protecting  tree-limb:  "For  Gawd's 
sake,  run,  Tom,  run!"  "You  d d  fool,"  re- 
sponded Tom,  between  gasps,  "you  don't  think 
I'm  going  to  throw  this  race,  do  you?" 

After  traveling  to  a  camp-site  on  Harris  Creek 
and  seeing  no  sign  of  moose,  Harry  suggested 
that  instead  of  camping  immediately  and  going 
up  to  Tepee  Lake,  three  miles,  in  the  morning, 
that  we  leave  the  outfit  here  while  Cap,  he  and  I 
should  go  to  Tepee  Lake  now,  and  if  we  found  no 
sign  we  would  camp  farther  below  and  do  our 
hunting  in  that  section  on  the  morrow.  So  this 
plan  was  agreed  to.  When  we  reached  the  lake 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

we  were  almost  dumbfounded  to  find  no  sign 
around  its  boggy,  lily-padded  shore,  where  moose 
certainly  would  visit  if  they  were  in  the  country. 
So,  with  heavy  hearts,  we  retraced  our  steps 
back  to  the  packs,  and,  leading  them  down  a 
mile  or  two  farther,  camped  in  an  open  spot  fifty 
yards  from  the  timber,  on  one  of  the  forks  of 
Harris  Creek. 

From  correspondence  had  with  Mr.  Young, 
with  Dr.  Griffith  and  others,  I  had  been  led  to 
believe  that  the  barren  ground  above  Harris 
Creek  to  the  east  was  a  great  caribou  range  a 
week  or  two  later  in  the  season.  Hoping  that 
we  might  not  be  too  early,  Harry  and  Jimmy 
Brown  decided  to  hunt  that  country  the  follow- 
ing day,  while  Billy  Wooden  and  I  took  the  same 
kind  of  country,  barren  and  boggy,  on  the  other 
side  of  Harris  Creek.  William  and  Rogers 
hunted  for  sheep  farther  up  Harris  Creek,  as 
Harry,  Cap  and  I  had  seen  some  on  the  moun- 
tain to  the  left  of  Tepee  Lake  the  evening  before. 
On  my  trip  with  Wooden  we  saw  nothing  but 
some  caribou  and  moose  tracks  a  couple  of  days 
old.  We  picked  up  an  old  set  of  caribou  horns 
for  the  group,  and,  returning  at  4  p.  m.,  we  went 
greyling  fishing  with  Cap,  getting  twenty  aver- 
aging a  pound  in  an  hour  or  two  with  snell  hooks 
baited  with  meat,  using  willow  poles. 

Rogers  and  William  came  in  before  supper 
with  the  information  that  "the  sheep  had  seen 
them  first,"  therefore,  they  went  moose  hunting 

138 


SHEEP,  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

— a  sure  proof,  they  said,  that  they  didn't  get 
game. 

Harry  came  in  with  Brownie  about  5  o'clock 
carrying  a  4-year-old  bull  caribou  in  the  velvet. 
When  they  came  upon  it  (which  was  accom- 
plished, Harry  said,  thru  some  very  clever  stalk- 
ing by  his  guide)  they  thought  it  was  a  cow  out 
of  the  velvet,  so  Harry  opened  on  it  at  seventy- 
five  yards.  He  downed  it  with  a  shot  in  the 
paunch  that  ranged  diagonally  forward  and 
broke  the  shoulder — a  very  pretty  shot,  Brownie 
said.  Later  he  was  able  to  crawl  to  within 
fifteen  feet  of  a  sleeping  caribou  bull,  larger  than 
the  first,  but  he  allowed  it  to  go,  as  it  was  not 
his  intention  to  kill  any  more  in  the  velvet.  He 
would,  of  course,  not  have  killed  the  first  one 
had  he  known  the  horns  were  soft.  (This  de- 
cision on  his  part,  to  kill  no  more  in  the  velvet, 
was  reversed  later  when  he  was  told  by  Rogers 
that  there  was  a  possibility  that  the  velvet  horns 
might  be  preserved  and  that  such  a  group 
would  be  a  curiosity  in  a  museum.  Now,  how- 
ever, we  learn,  after  consulting  Mr.  Figgins — a 
fact  which  most  of  us  felt  certain  of  at  the  time — 
that  as  velvet  specimens  these  horns  are  a 
failure. 


Seventh 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 


SEVENTH  CHAPTER 
MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

Sunday,  September  i,  which  was  the  day 
following  our  hunting  on  the  barrens  above 
Harris  Creek,  when  Harry  James  killed  his  bull 
caribou,  we  folded  our  tents  and  quietly  slipped 
away,  following  down  Harris  Creek  and  camp- 
ing on  the  west  bank  of  the  Generc.  There  was  a 
certain  sadness  in  our  act,  for  it  meant  the  turn- 
ing homeward  on  what  was  so  far  an  unsuccess- 
ful trip.  And  yet  the  country  was  so  beautiful, 
the  sun  so  splendid  and  the  air  so  perfect  that 
none  but  a  confirmed  pessimist  could  help  ap- 
preciating it.  I  don't  believe  I  ever  enjoyed  a 
horseback  ride  more  than  that  one  on  Sunday, 
September  i,  1918.  There  seemed  to  be  just 
enough  woodland,  the  right  contour  of  mountain, 
the  perfect  touch  of  vista,  the  proper  swing  to  the 
stream  below,  the  right  trail  undulation — for 
this  was  a  real  trail,  albeit  a  crude  one — and  the 
perfect  temperature  and  light  to  cause  exhilara- 
tion of  spirit,  and,  as  the  poet  hath  said,  "a  pure 
serenity  of  mind."  I  felt  a  desire  to  drink  in  the 
atmosphere  and  scenery  in  big  gulps.  Removing 
the  Stetson,  and  with  one  leg  over  the  withers 

'43 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

in  a  restful  position,  I  allowed  everything  to 
soak  in  that  would. 

It  was  good  to  have  the  fresh  Alaska  air  filter 
through  the  thinning  locks  that  bedecked  the 
upper  appendage;  and  it  didn't  seem  bad,  either, 
to  feel  the  morning  glints  from  Old  Sol  smacking 
the  ivory-colored  arid  spots  on  the  editorial 
dome.  It  was  a  time  for  rumination  and  rhap- 
sodizing— every  condition  conducing  to  a  peace- 
ful lethargy  never  found  along  the  business  trail. 
And  besides,  it  was  Sunday. 

The  following  day,  Harry,  Brownie,  Cap  and  I 
went  up  the  trail  three  miles  west  of  camp  on 
foot,  moose  hungry  and  determined.  Later  we 
separated  into  pairs  and  hunted  a  fairly  large 
area,  but  drew  only  a  blank.  Harry  and  Cap 
saw  a  moose,  but  he  was  able  to  leave  with  a 
whole  hide,  no  one  even  getting  a  shot  at  him 
(or  her) — we  couldn't  see  the  animal  clear  enough 
to  determine  the  sex.  I  learned  while  hunting 
big  game,  as  has  many  another  sportsman,'  that 
if  you  can't  see  the  horns  on  a  bull  at  a  distance 
of  three  hundred  or  four  hundred  yards,  she  has 
none.  Note. — My  diary  of  this  day  reads: 
Sept.  2,  1918,  sun  arose  at  6:15 — daylight,  4:15. 
Sundown  at  yr^o^^is  of  course  by  the  day- 
light-saving time. 

Cap  and  I  took  our  horses  next  morning  and 
started  over  the  same  train  traveled  the  day  be- 
fore, only  we  went  mucn  farther,  clear  up  above 
timberline  on  the  caribou  barrens — where  we 

144 


Upper  picture — The  author  and  45-inch  moose. 

Middle — Grayling  fishing  on  Harris  Creek,  Y.  T. 

Lower — A  fly  came  in  handy  to  sleep  under  at  Skolai  Pass. 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

divided,  he  taking  one  route  back  to  camp  and 
I  another.  As  we  separated  at  10  o'clock  it 
gave  each  of  us  time  for  a  nice  long  hunt  alone. 
The  balance  of  the  party,  dividing,  hunted  the 
timbered  reaches  next  the  Generc,  both  above 
and  below  camp. 

While  the  horses  were  a  great  help  in  carrying 
us  up  the  steep  trail,  we  now  would  be  better  off 
without  them,  as  far  as  hunting  was  concerned. 
After  leaving  Cap  I  bore  downward  toward  the 
timber,  crossed  a  canon,  and  as  I  reached  the 
forested  area  began  to  hunt.  My  method  was 
to  tie  the  horse  and  make  a  circuit  out  from  and 
back  to  the  animal,  the  horse  being  on  the  line  of 
the  circle,  not  in  the  middle  of  it.  Due  care  was 
taken  that  I  didn't  hunt  down-wind  from  the 
horse,  of  course.  This  circle  was  about  half  a 
mile  across.  While  leading  my  horse  to  a  tying 
tree  for  the  third  circle  hunt,  I  came  out  upon  a 
bluff  overlooking  a  stream,  while  across  this  riv- 
ulet and  three-quarters  of  a  mile  to  the  north 
lay  a  timber-encircled  lake.  When  I  first  glanced 
at  this  body  of  water,  a  third  of  a  mile  long  by  a 
quarter  wide  (with  the  naked  eye),  I  didn't  see 
anything  the  matter  with  it.  However,  a  second 
survey  of  it  disclosed  what  my  clouded  vision 
took  to  be  a  horse  standing  in  the  water  twenty- 
five  feet  from  the  opposite  shore.  There  was 
certainly  something  there  that  didn't  belong. 
The  next  instant  two  bright-colored  blades  helio- 
graphed  to  me  the  information  that  he  was  a  bull 

H5 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

moose  disporting  himself  in  perfect  ease  and  ab- 
solute security  at  his  summer  and  fall  watering 
place.  Using  the  glasses,  I  saw  it  was  a  bull 
moose,  all  right,  apparently  with  a  very  fair  set 
of  perfectly  clean  antlers.  The  white  palms 
glistened  in  the  sunlight,  giving  them  the  ap- 
pearance of  being  much  larger  than  they  were. 
Standing  knee-deep  in  the  lake,  between  drinks, 
he  took  long,  leisurely  glances  around  in  the 
different  directions  looking  for  any  sign  of  danger 
that  might  be  manifest.  Soon  a  smaller  bull,  in 
the  velvet,  joined  him,  wading  out  into  the 
water  about  as  far  as  his  companion.  In  a  few 
minutes  both  slowly  retreated  into  the  forest. 
I  ran  for  my  horse  and  pulled  him  down  hill 
to  the  stream.  Crossing  it,  I  led  him  toward  the 
lake  into  the  timber  and  tied  him.  Then  I  ad- 
vanced to  the  near  side  of  the  lake  and  from 
behind  a  tree  looked  across  with  the  glasses.  I 
peered  into  every  opening  among  the  trees,  and 
scrutinized  studiously  every  little  formation  or 
combination  that  looked  like  the  head,  horn,  ear 
or  body  of  a  moose.  I  almost  gave  up  when  I 
saw  something  resembling  an  ear  move.  I  kept 
the  glasses  on  it  for  minutes  without  further 
result,  all  the  while  trying  to  build  horns  and 
heads  put  of  everything  within  a  fair  radius  of 
the  object.  It  was  back  about  twenty-five  feet 
from  the  edge  of  the  timber,  and  as  I  stood  about 
four  hundred  yards  away,  it  can  be  seen  that  I 
had  some  contract  on  hand  to  look  after  an  ob- 

146 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

ject  as  small  as  a  moose's  ear  at  that  distance 
and  in  that  shadow-streaked  timber.  I  waited 
for  what  seemed  an  hour,  but  which  was  per- 
haps only  a  few  more  minutes,  for  a  repetition  of 
the  same  motion.  Finally  I  was  rewarded,  for 
that  ear  flapped  again  as  naturally  as  any  good 
healthy  moose's  ear  should.  Then  I  detected 
the  hulk  of  his  body  lying  behind  a  couple  of 
trees,  as  well  as  an  outline  of  one  of  his  norns. 
He  was  in  the  shade,  and  hard  to  see.  The  flies 
bothered  him  a  little,  but  not  so  much  as  to 
cause  him  to  shake  his  head,  but  only  the  ear. 
Owing  to  the  very  poor  target  he  made  from 
here  and  the  good  chance  there  seemed  of  stalk- 
ing him  from  the  other  side,  I  decided  not  to  risk 
a  shot  now,  but  to  circle  around  and  come  down 
on  him  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake.  While 
the  side  on  which  I  stood  was  flat  ground,  the 
other  side  was  quite  a  hill.  After  marking  care- 
fully the  spot  occupied  by  my  quarry  I  retreated 
back  to  the  horse  and  led  him  in  a  semi-circle 
around  the  lower  end  of  the  lake,  up  on  the  side 
of  the  ridge  back  of  the  lake  and  tied  him  about 
a  quarter  mile  from  the  moose.  Everything  was 
favorable  for  a  successful  stalk,  wind,  weather 
and  sun,  and  I  decided  then  and  there  that  if 
that  old  ruminant  got  away  he  would  be  a 
charmed  animal.  I  tried  not  to  overlook  any- 
thing that  would  contribute  to  my  success.  It 
was  11:30  when  I  sighted  him,  so  I  had  all  the 
time  I  needed  for  a  slow,  careful  stalk.  The 

14? 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

weather  was  actually  balmy  and  sun  shining 
brightly. 

I  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  from  my  horse 
when  I  became  disgusted  at  the  rasping  sound 
made  by  walking  on  the  dry  moss,  so  removing 
my  boots  and  laying  them  on  a  stump,  I  con- 
tinued in  my  stocking  feet.  When  damp  this 
moss  is  an  advantage  in  stalking  game,  but 
when  dry  it  gives  forth  a  crunching  sound  like 
that  of  walking  on  frozen  snow. 

I  thought,  owing  to  the  landmark  taken  on 
his  position  from  the  other  side,  that  I  would  be 
able  to  pretty  accurately  judge  the  location  of 
his  bed.  I  had  by  this  time  come  to  the  rim  of 
the  hill  leading  down  to  the  lake,  a  distance  of 
two  hundred  or  three  hundred  yards  away.  I 
crept  and  walked  down  thru  the  timber,  keeping 
behind  the  greatest  patches  of  trees  and  in  the 
swales,  stopping  every  few  feet  to  look  more 
carefully  than  I  could  do  while  moving.  I  was 
so  quiet  in  my  advance  that  the  creaking  of  the 
leather  strap  on  my  camera  carrying  case 
sounded  to  me  like  the  hiss  of  a  German  bomb. 
When  I  had  approached  to  within  about  one 
hundred  twenty-five  yards  of  the  lake,  and  just 
at  about  the  time  that  I  expected  something 
very  sensational  to  happen,  a  squirrel  saw  me  and 
began  a  terrific  tirade  of  abuse.  I  once  had  a 
squirrel  open  up  on  me  in  exactly  the  same  man- 
ner while  stalking  a  grizzly  in  Wyoming,  and 
while  that  very  act,  I  believe,  in  that  instance 

148 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

was  the  cause  of  that  particular  bear's  demise, 
yet  I  was  not  so  sure  that  it  would  work  the 
same  way  on  moose.  A  second  after  the  squir- 
rel's call  was  sounded  a  very  natural  bush,  one 
hundred  twenty-five  yards  in  front,  turned  sud- 
denly into  a  very  animated  set  of  moose  antlers 
that  moved  nervously,  and  the  first  act  was  on. 
The  particular  spot  where  the  body  lay  was  con- 
cealed by  the  foliage,  but  soon  the  antlers  arose 
to  full  height  and  moved  out  of  sight  to  the  left. 
I  ran  like  an  Indian  for  twenty-five  feet  to  my 
left,  as  the  foliage  was  too  dense  to  see  him  from 
my  first  position.  I  stopped  as  a  likely  opening 
appeared  in  the  timber,  bent  to  a  knee  rest  and 
was  gratified  to  see  my  moose,  also  walking  to 
the  left.  I  had  the  sight  on  his  shoulder  in  a 
flash,  but  that  little  25-foot  run  had  got  my 
breath,  and  besides  I  was  a  little  nervous,  too. 
This  made  the  sight  waver,  so  I  pulled  myself 
together  and  said,  "Old  boy,  you  can't  afford 
to  miss  this  moose  after  traveling  so  far  to  get 
him."  I  am  a  great  believer,  like  the  doctor,  in 
the  efficacy  of  that  first  pill,  for  I  would  rather 
have  one  good  standing  shot  at  an  animal  than 
a  half  dozen  running.  Everybody  is  not  built 
that  way,  I  know,  for  many  men  are  nearly  as 
good  on  running  game  as  on  standing.  So  I 
braced  up  on  the  second  effort  and  was  able 
to  hold  the  sight  so  steady  that  as  .soon  as  I 
squeezed  the  trigger  I  knew  I  had  my  game.  All 
I  could  see  was  the  big  animal  rear  up  and  turn 

149 


IN  THE  ALASKA- YUKON  GAMELANDS 

in  the  opposite  direction.  Believing  that  he 
traveled  a  short  distance  going  in  this  direction, 
but  not  knowing  for  sure,  as  the  foliage  hid  him, 
I  fired  two  more  shots  at  about  the  place  I 
judged  he  would  be  if  he  had  kept  going.  When 
I  went  down  I  found  him  dying  from  the  first 
and  only  shot  that  hit  him. 

The  bullet  struck  him  in  the  left  side,  passed 
thru  both  shoulders — smashing  the  humerus 
bone  of  each  shoulder  at  exactly  the  same  relative 
point — and  passed  out  through  the  hide  of  the 
right  shoulder.  (The  bullet  was  the  regular 
22o-grain  soft  point  .30  U.  S.  '03.)  The  work 
of  this  bullet  was  almost  unbelievable.  I  would 
have  had  doubts  about  its  wonderful  effect  if  I 
hadn't  seen  it.  That  this  bullet  could  go  through 
the  two  humerus  bones  of  a  big  moose,  contin- 
uing through  his  body,  tearing  bones  and  flesh 
so  frightfully,  and  yet  be  able  to  remain  intact 
sufficiently  to  make  its  exit  on  the  opposite  side 
thru  a  hole  in  the  skin  not  larger  than  an  inch 
in  size,  was  something  very  remarkable,  I 
thought.  While  I  have  killed  grizzly  bears, 
moose  and  elk  with  this  same  shell  before,  and 
never  feared  for  the  result,  yet  now  that  I  had 
before  me  this  latest  and  most  wonderful  demon- 
stration of  its  execution  I  am  stronger  for  it 
than  ever  before — and,  in  the  language  of  the 
vernacular,  that  is  "going  some." 

I  had  been  very  fortunate  in  my  shooting  so 
far,  my  first  four  animals  being  killed  by  a  single 

150 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

bullet  each,  and  every  one  of  them  practically 
dropping  in  their  tracks — a  record  that  speaks 
volumes  for  the  .30  U.  S.  in  both  '06  and  '03 
ammunition — the  *o6  being  used  on  sheep  and 
goats  and  the  '03  on  moose.  I  am  sorry  I  cannot 
record  such  clean  work  for  my  subsequent 
shooting  on  this  trip. 

It  is  a  matter  of  regret  with  me  that  records 
were  not  kept  of  the  execution  of  the  shells  used 
by  the  other  members  of  our  party.  I  have  fre- 
quently mentioned  in  this  narrative  the  wonder- 
ful smashing  effect  of  Cap's  .250,  which  usually 
churned  up  the  insides  of  an  animal  fiercely, 
especially  if  hit  in  the  paunch  or  thereabouts. 
Harry's  and  William's  autoloading  ammunition 
gave  great  satisfaction,  I  know,  from  the  reports 
voiced  about  the  campfire,  as  well  as  the  .35 
which  was  used  by  them  occasionally;  but  a  de- 
tailed report  of  each  shot  would  be  of  inestimable 
value  here,  and  I  regret  exceedingly  my  inability 
to  produce  it. 

It  was  11:30  a.  m.  when  I  saw  this  bull,  and 
2  p.  m.  when  I  killed  him — too^  and  one-half 
hours  of  the  most  interesting^and  enjoyable 
stalk  on  big  game  that  I  have  ever  experienced. 

While  some  very  large  moose  heads  nave  been 
secured  in  the  White  River  country — as  witness 
three  that  Mr.  Corcoran  killed  there  two  years 
ago  of  62^,  58,  and  53-inch  spread  respectively 
— yet  on  the  whole  I  think  the  spreads  are  very 
narrow  considering  the  palmations,  size  of  the 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

bulls,  etc.  In  1917  Mr.  Young's  party  killed 
eight  very  nice  bulls,  and  yet  the  largest  only 
had  a  52-inch  spread.  There  is  no  doubt  that, 
in  order  to  get  the  largest  moose  antlers,  one 
must  go  to  the  Kenai  Peninsula,  and  yet  of 
course  the  difference  in  the  largest  White  River 
heads  and  the  largest  Kenai  heads  (in  spread) 
would  probably  not  be  more  than  a  very  few 
inches. 

I  reached  camp  at  6  o'clock,  where  the  usual 
hot  soup,  venison  and  other  good  things  were 
devoured  with  keenest  relish.  None  of  the 
other  hunters  saw  any  game  whatever  in  their 
travels  that  day. 

The  morning  following,  Rogers,  Longley,  Cap 
and  I  went  up  to  the  moose  with  pack  horses — 
the  former  two  to  skin  it  out  and  bring  it  to 
camp,  and  Cap  and  I  to  hunt.  After  taking  some 
photographs  we  measured  the  animal — a  very 
ordinary  sized  moose — with  the  following  results: 
Nose  to  tip  of  tail,  contour  over  body,  10  ft. 
4  ins.;  shoulder  bone  to  hip  bone,  5  ft.;  shoulder 
top  to  bottom  straight  through  (brisket  to  top 
of  withers'),  31  ins.;  thickness  through  shoulders, 
19  ins.;  thickness  thru  hips,  i6>£  ins.;  height  at 
withers,  6  ft.  7  ins.;  spread  of  horn,  45  ins.;  eye 
to  end  of  nose,  18  ins.;  palmation  length,  2  ft. 
33^  ins.;  palmation  width,  14  ins.;  points,  20. 

At  10  o'clock  Cap  and  I  left  the  boys  to  con- 
tinue their  work  and  began  our  day's  hunt,  each 
selecting  different  routes,  afoot.  I  traveled 

152 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

northward  through  an  ideal  moose  country,  pass- 
ing half  a  dozen  lakes  and  covering  about  twelve 
miles,  but  without  seeing  anything  larger  than 
a  bird.  Cap  arrived  at  camp  a  little  after 
me,  reporting  that  he  had  seen  a  bear  that 
walked  as  if  crippled.  He  saw  the  brute  at 
a  distance  of  seven  hundred  yards,  but  seeing 
no  way  of  getting  closer,  made  no  attempt 
to  stalk  it. 

Harry  and  Wooden  went  up  the  river  for 
moose  today,  to  a  country  visited  yesterday  by 
William  and  Wooden.  Many  fresh  tracks  were 
seen,  but  no  game.  William  and  Jimmie  went 
down  the  river,  and  while  they  saw  some  caribou 
on  the  bar,  they  were  at  too  great  a  distance  and 
surrounded  by  such  unfavorable  conditions  for 
stalking  that  it  was  useless  to  attempt  to  get 
up  to  them. 

On  September  5th  (the  next  morning)  Harry, 
William,  Billy  and  Jimmy  went  down  the  river 
for  caribou.  They  succeeded  in  bringing  down 
three — all  in  the  velvet — a  cow,  a  j-y ear-old  and 
a  yearling.  Jimmy  crippled  the  cow  first  by 
breaking  her  leg,  after  which  Harry  finished  her. 
William  made  a  beautiful  shot  on  the  j-year-old 
bull,  bringing  him  to  earth  at  five  hundred  yards 
while  the  animal  was  on  the  full  run.  Those 
who  saw  the  shot  said  that  it  was  not  only  a 
very  creditable  one  for  William,  but  a  most 
spectacular  sight  as  well.  William  also  killed 
the  yearling. 

'53 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

Here  I  may  as  well  record  a  feeling  that  I  ex- 
perienced many  times  on  this  trip — brought  to 
mind  thru  mention  of  William's  good  shooting 
at  the  bull  caribou:  It  was  a  source  of  much 
regret  with  me  that  I  was  not  permitted  to  wit- 
ness some  of  William's  shooting — also  of  Harry's. 
But  as  we  were  each  day  hunting  separately 
when  we  secured  game,  I  was  deprived  of  the 
pleasure  of  joining  my  companions  in  their  mo- 
ments of  ecstacy  after  bringing  down  a  game 
animal — as  well  as  of  having  them  share  with 
me  in  my  delights  on  such  occasions.  It  seems 
we  all  suffered  the  hardships  together,  but  were 
compelled  to  enjoy  the  thrills  separately.  Of 
course,  they  usually  had  their  guides  with  them, 
as  I  had  mine,  but  it  would  have  seemed  just  a 
little  nearer  home  if  we  could  have  had  one  or 
two  of  the  party  along  when  these  ecstatic 
moments  arrived. 

Kubrick  and  I  had  the  only  cameras  in  the 
outfit,  with  the  exception  of  a  Graflex  carried 
by  Rogers,  the  "combination"  of  which  he  lost 
early  on  the  hunt  through  his  inability  to  change 
the  plates.  Thus  the  game  killed  by  the  other 
members  of  the  party  was  not  photographed, 
as  none  of  it  was  taken  to  camp  whole. 

I  should  certainly  have  enjoyed  seeing  William 
topple  over  that  bull  as  it  swung  at  mil  speed 
across  the  bar,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to 
record  the  event  as  I  saw  it.  William  was  an  ex- 
ceptional young  man  in  camp  and  on  the  trail — 

'54 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

the  coolest-headed,  most  reserved  chap  in  the 
face  of  adversity  or  an  emergency  I  have  ever 
been  out  with,  and  one  of  the  most  obliging  and 
uniformly  courteous  companions  imaginable. 
On  this  day  Harry  had  a  very  distressing  ex- 
perience and  one  that  might  have  turned  out 
disastrously  with  a  less  careful  man.  He  and 
Jimmy  Brown  were  stalking  a  caribou  on  the 
river  bar  of  the  Generc,  but  from  different  direc- 
tions, each  trying  to  drive  it  toward  the  other. 
They  were  separated  by  about  five  hundred 
yards,  and  William  and  Billy  (together)  occupied 
another  position  about  the  same  distance  from 
Harry  as  Jimmy  was.  The  three  parties  thereby 
formed  the  three  points  of  a  triangle.  Suddenly 
Jimmy  disappeared  from  Harry's  view  in  a 
"wash"  of  the  bar.  For  some  time  he  remained 
out  of  sight.  Then,  glancing  toward  the  position 
occupied  by  William  and  Billy,  who  had  re- 
mained concealed  from  view  up  to  this  time, 
Harry  saw  the  black,  uncovered  head  of  Billy 
projecting  above  its  hiding  place  in  the  bar. 
Thinking  it  was  Jimmy,  who  had  sneaked  up  to 
this  position,  Harry  immediately  released  all 
thought  of  Jimmy  as  being  in  his  old  location, 
and  fired  in  that  direction  occasionally  as  the 
course  of  the  animal  justified.  It  was  lucky  of 
course  that  no  one  was  hurt.  The  incident  is 
recorded  here  for  the  lesson  that  it  may  be  to 
other  hunters  who  may  some  time  find  them- 
selves in  the  same  position  under  similar  con- 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

ditions.  Of  course  in  this  instance  no  one  was 
at  all  to  blame  for  what  happened. 

On  this  day  Cap  and  I  crossed  the  Generc 
early  in  the  morning.  This  is  a  glacial  stream, 
the  bar  (or  bed)  of  which  is  two  miles  across, 
being  cut  up  by  many  channels,  and  very  swift 
flowing.  We  climbed  the  mountain  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  Generc  for  a  hunt  in  the  car- 
ibou country.  We  separated  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  going  up  separate  draws.  After  I 
reached  the  top — a  great  barren,  rolling  country 
— I  was  attracted  first  by  the  snort  of  my  horse 
and  later  by  a  couple  of  dark  objects  that  were 
lying  down  four  hundred  yards  ahead,  in  the 
direction  in  which  the  horse  had  scented  the 
"danger."  As  I  dismounted  and  stood  behind 
my  horse  they  (a  cow  caribou  and  yearling) 
came  toward  me  much  as  a  curious  antelope 
would  approach  a  "flagging"  outpost.  They 
were  both  in  the  velvet — the  yearling  with  horns 
not  over  eight  inches  long.  As  I  didn't  care  for 
them  for  our  group — both  being  in  velvet — I 
didn't  make  any  attempt  at  stalking.  They 
moved  around  me  in  a  quartercircle,  and  after 
all  of  us  (even  the  horse,  who  was  very  much 
perturbed)  had  satisfied  our  curiosity  they  dis- 
appeared in  a  swale  beyond  and  were  seen  no 
more. 

I  soon  saw  Cap  thru  the  glasses  on  another 
mountain  opposite  me,  and  as  he  was  working 
down  I  also  descended.  I  had  covered  about 

156 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

all  the  country  within  reach,  and  as  the  after- 
noon was  waning  I  decided  that  I  had  done  about 
all  the  hunting  for  the  day  that  I  cared  to.  Be- 
sides, finding  these  caribou  yet  in  the  velvet  had 
no  exhilarating  effect  on  my  spirits,  as  it  seemed 
when  we  did  actually  find  game  that  we  might 
kill  it  was  not  in  the  condition  desired — some 
hard  luck.  So  I  kept  on  descending,  hoping  to 
meet  Cap  below,  he  soon  being  swallowed  up 
from  view  in  the  timber.  It  was  not,  however, 
until  I  was  well  on  my  way  to  camp  in  the  heavy 
timber  that  I  heard  him  calling  me  from  an 
eminence  on  my  back  track.  He  had  found  my 
trail  and  was  hurrying  to  catch  me.  He  saw  a 
cow  moose  and  calf  in  the  timber  while  coming 
off  the  mountain,  but  feared  that  some  shots  I 
had  fired  to  give  him  my  location  might  have 
scared  them,  so  thought  it  unnecessary  to  go 
back.  Besides,  it  was  a  great  distance  and  quite 
a  climb  to  where  they  were — too  far  for  us  to  go 
and  get  to  camp  that  night. 

On  the  rest  of  our  way  down  we  followed  Car- 
ibou Creek,  where  I  was  surprised  to  see  many 
tracks  of  ewes  and  lambs  far  below  timberline — 
also,  near  the  bed  of  the  Generc,  at  least  one 
thousand  feet  below  timberline,  the  partly  de- 
voured carcass  of  a  lamb  that  evidently  had  been 
killed  by  eagles.  Close  to  this  lamb  there  were 
many  sheep  tracks,  showing  that  the  habits  of 
these  animals  on  this  mountain  must  be  some- 
what different  from  that  of  their  brothers  on  the 

'57 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

other  ranges.  While  camped  on  this  crest  five 
years  before  with  Messrs.  Vereker  and  Cad- 
bury,  two  English  sportsmen  hunting  under  his 
guidance,  Cap  had  noticed  that  the  sheep  were 
in  the  habit  of  passing  his  camp  in  the  timber 
every  day.  As  they  had  plenty  of  water  above, 
their  object  could  not  have  been  for  the  purpose 
of  finding  drink;  possibly  some  esjDecial  browse 
in  that  locality  was  the  attraction.  We  reached 
camp  at  7  o'clock. 

We  all  drew  blanks  the  next  day.  Harry  and 
Jimmy  went  down  the  Generc  for  caribou.  They 
saw  two,  but  as  they  were  about  the  same  as  to 
size  and  sex  as  those  secured  the  previous  day 
they  did  not  molest  them.  William  and  Billy 
went  up  the  Generc,  but  the  signs  not  being  right, 
they  returned  early.  Cap  and  I  climbed  the  hill 
in  the  direction  of  my  moose  killing,  but  the 
ubiquitous  ill-omen  seemed  to  be  with  us,  so  we 
marched  down  the  hill  again  and  to  camp,  de- 
ciding then  and  there  that  if  there  were  any 
more  moose  or  caribou  thereabouts  they  were  so 
scarce  as  to  be  not  worth  the  time  and  labor 
required  to  go  and  get  them. 

The  next  morning  saw  us  working  like  beavers 
packing  up  and  getting  ready  to  move  back  to 
our  old  sheep  camp  on  the  Kletsan,  hoping  that, 
either  while  en  route  or  at  that  camp  we  might 
see  some  encouraging  moose  or  caribou  sign;  or, 
if  we  should  not,  then  we  planned  hunting  there 
a  few  days  for  sheep.  Harry  and  I,  with  about 

158 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

an  hour's  start  of  the  outfit,  traveled  on  horse- 
back over  the  barrens  above  timberline  a  little 
ways  above  the  trail  taken  by  the  packs,  hoping 
to  be  able  to  sight  some  caribou  on  the  way. 
After  going  a  few  miles  and  when  a  short  dis- 
tance above  timberline,  we  espied  what  we  took 
to  be  a  caribou  cow  and  calf  at  a  distance  of  five 
hundred  yards.  Our  heads  only  showed  above 
the  ridge-line  as  we  advanced,  so  they  did  not 
see  us.  Dismounting,  we  put  the  glasses  on 
them.  Unfortunately  we  were  facing  the  sun, 
and  therefore  they  appeared  as  black  animals 
without  horns,  with  clear  outlines  but  no  detail. 
As  our  thoughts  were  of  caribou  it  didn't  enter 
our  minds  that  they  were  anything  else — failing 
to  consider  that  even  the  cow  caribou  had  horns 
— so,  not  desiring  any  cow  or  younger  specimens 
of  that  species,  we  boldly  walked  out  in  full  view. 
They  then  saw  us  and  trotted  away.  As  they 
didn't  look  just  right,  I  used  the  glasses  again. 
As  soon  as  my  eye  fell  on  them  now  I  saw  they 
were  moose.  They  were  going  fast  by  this  time 
and  away  from  our  traveling  direction,  but  to- 
ward the  trail  of  the  packs,  so,  concluding  that 
some  member  of  the  outfit  might  pick  them  up, 
we  didn't  attempt  to  follow  them.  Besides,  it 
would  have  been  useless  in  their  frightened  state. 
We  resumed  our  travel  toward  the  Dalton 
cabin,  on  the  Kletsan,  stopping  to  "bile  the 
kettle"  en  route.  In  his  daily  hunting  trips  on 
this  expedition  Harry  had  been  following  this 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

custom — either  he  or  the  guide  carrying  a  tea- 
pot and  the  necessary  accessories  for  the  oc- 
casion. It  was  the  first  "kettle-biling"  I  had 
done  since  hunting  in  New  Brunswick,  and  it 
didn't  seem  bad.  Passing  the  Dalton  cabin  we 
lumbered  down  the  remaining  eight  miles  to  our 
Kletsan  camp,  which  we  found  occupied  by 
Dr.  J.  F.  Hill,  of  Kennecott,  and  his  guides,  Con 
Miller  and  G.  A.  Gallup.  The  pack  outfit  fol- 
lowed us  in  almost  immediately.  As  it  was  now 
late  in  the  day  it  was  necessary  for  us  to  make 
camp  here,  at  least  for  the  night,  but  we  informed 
the  genial  doctor  (to  whom,  by  the  way,  Harry 
had  a  letter  of  introduction)  that  we  would 
move  on  the  morrow.  This  action,  however,  he 
refused  to  tolerate,  at  the  same  time  telling  us 
that  we  must  remain  right  where  we  were  until 
we  had  finished  our  hunting;  that  he  had  secured 
two  nice  rams  (one  of  which — a  beauty — I  later 
photographed  with  its  captor),  and  that  he 
would  feel  grossly  insulted  if  we  should  move. 
This  splendid  spirit  assured  us,  so  we  decided  to 
remain,  at  least  for  a  few  days.  Dr.  Hill  had 
already  finished  his  sheep  hunting,  having 
secured  his  rams  at  the  head  of  the  Kletsan, 
near  where  I  got  the  small  ram  and  ewe,  and 
from  now  on  he  intended  to  hunt  only  for  moose. 
He  informed  us  that  he  was  due  in  McCarthy 
the  same  day  we  were  (September  16)  so  it  was 
nice  to  think  we  should  have  his  company  back. 
That  evening  we  "mixed  medicine"  with  Dr. 
Hill  around  the  wigwam  until  a  late  hour,  during 

160 


MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 

which  we  talked  over  our  proposed  sheep  hunt  of 
the  following  day.  He  said  that  when  he  had  se- 
cured his  rams  a  few  days  before  there  were  others 
left,  and  he  further  stated  that  he  thought  these 
might  yet  be  found  in  nearly  the  same  place. 
The  question  that  now  arose  was  this:  Of  the 
two  available  hunting  grounds  that  could  be 
covered  from  this  camp — the  Upper  Kletsan 
and  Figgins  Mountain — which  should  we  at- 
tempt? Harry  had  asked  me  to  accompany 
him  and  his  guide,  Jimmie  Brown,  to  the  Upper 
Kletsan,  and  I  had  concluded  to  go  with  him 
(allowing  the  other  members  to  hunt  for  moose) 
when  Cap  suggested  that  we  were  foolish  to  at- 
tempt that  trip  when  we  had  such  good  hunting 
as  Figgins  Mountain  afforded.  This  started  a 
discussion  which  ended  in  Harry  suggesting  that 
we  split — he  and  Jimmy  to  go  to  one  place  and 
Cap  and  I  to  the  other.  This  seemed  agreeable 
—the  idea  being  to  siwash  it  the  first  night  and 
thereby  be  able  to  hunt  two  days.  Now  the 
question  that  remained  to  be  settled  was — who 
should  go  to  Figgins  Mountain  and  who  to  the 
other  point?  I  gladly  offered  to  give  Harry  his 
choice,  which  he  reluctantly  accepted  in  favor  of 
the  Upper  Kletsan.  When  I  say  "reluctantly" 
in  this  connection  I  say  so  advisedly,  for  Harry 
is  slower  in  accepting  favors  than  in  extending 
them.  Big-hearted  and  jolly,  it  was  but  natural 
that  on  this  trip  he  should  prove  himself  the 
gentleman-sportsman  which  in  our  home  city  I 
had  always  found  him  to  be. 

161 


Eighth  Chapter 


RAMS   AND    CARIBOU 


EIGHTH  CHAPTER 
RAMS  AND  CARIBOU 

^HE  morning  of  September  Sthjn  our  camp 
•*•  broke  with  great  preparation  arfthexpectancy 
by  at  least  two  members  (Harry  and  myself)  and 
our  guides.  This  was  to  be  the  last  favorable 
opportunity  that  either  he  or  I  should  have  of 
getting  game  on  the  trip.  We  needed  a  good  ram 
or  two  for  our  sheep  groups,  and  also  a  lamb  to 
fill.  Besides  these,  we  hoped  to  be  able  to  bring 
back  a  personal  trophy — not  to  be  considered, 
however,  until  we  should  have  filled  the  mu- 
seum's demands,  if  that  were  possible.  While 
we  were  on  this  two-day  trip  it  was  hoped  that 
William,  Rogers  and  the  others,  by  their  com- 
bined scouting,  should  be  able  to  fill  on  the  moose 
and  possibly  the  caribou  group.  So,  as  we  each 
went  our  separate  ways  that  morning — Harry 
and  Jimmy  up  the  Kletsan  and  Cap  and  I  (with 
Longley  along  to  pack  our  tent  and  belongings) 
headed  for  Figgins  Mountain — it  is  safe  to  say 
that  we  had  much  the  feeling  of  the  son  leaving 
the  old  homestead  to  seek  his  fortune  after 
bidding  the  folks  goodby. 

During  our  morning  ride  along  the  side  of 
165 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

Figgins  Mountain,  Cap  and  I  saw  several  small 
bunches  of  sheep,  easily  picked  out  with  the 
naked  eye.  At  noon  we  camped  eight  miles 
from  main  camp,  in  a  draw  protected  by  the 
last  remnant  of  trees  available  near  timberline, 
pitched  our  tent,  ate  a  hurried  lunch  and,  after 
allowing  Longley  to  go  to  permanent  camp  (with 
advice  to  return  tomorrow  afternoon  for  us),  we 
were  ready  to.  talk  sheep.  As  we  faced  the  moun- 
tain, to  our  right  reposed  a  band  of  ewes  and 
lambs  a  couple  of  miles  away  on  the  side  of  a 
ridge  that  sloped  down  from  the  mountain.  To 
the  left,  the  same  distance,  on  another  ridge 
similarly  sloping  from  the  main  eminence,  lay  a 
bunch  of  six  or  seven  rams.  Ordinarily  those 
rams  would  have  looked  the  most  tempting  of 
the  two  chances  open  to  us,  but  there  were  other 
things  to  consider.  We  really  needed  a  lamb 
worse  than  a  ram,  and  besides,  we  had  it  figured 
out  that  we  could  go  up  that  afternoon  and  get 
our  lamb,  and  be  able  to  bag  a  ram  or  two  on 
the  following  day. 

So,  very  bold-heartedly  we  approached  the 
draw  which  led  to  the  ewes  and  lambs.  It  was 
i  -.30  p.  m.  when,  nearly  two  miles  from  camp,  at 
a  point  where  it  canoned  up,  we  saw  the  ewes 
and  lambs  cross  the  little  canon  about  500  yards 
ahead  of  us.  There  were  five  ewes  and  two 
lambs  in  the  flock.  We  circled  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  gulch  from  that  to  which  they  were 
crossing  and  crawled  up  behind  a  rock  300  yards 

166 


RAMS  AND  CARIBOU 

from  them.  I  took  the  first  shot  at  one  of  the 
lambs,  but  missed.  Then  Cap  opened  fire,  after 
which  we  both  continued  to  shoot  until  each  of 
us  had  probably  sent  six  or  eight  shots  after  that 
little  inoffensive  ovis  dalli.  While  it  didn't  then 
look  as  if  we  hit  it  at  all,  we  made  it  very  un- 
pleasant for  the  little  boy  until  finally  Cap 
toppled  it  over  just  as  it  was  crossing  the  crest 
of  the  ridge  with  a  shot  in  the  head.  When  skin- 
ning it  out  we  noticed  that  it  had  also  been  shot 
thru  the  intestines.  An  examination  of  the  hide 
both  in  the  field  and  at  the  museum  shows  that 
this  hole  was  made  by  a  hard-pointed  bullet,  and 
while  Cap  was  using  soft  points  in  his  shooting 
(and  I  hard  points),  yet  he  says  he  remembers 
shoving  in  a  hard-point  bullet  at  some  time 
during  the  fusillade.  Therefore,  we  shall  prob- 
ably never  know  who  hit  this  youngster  in  the 
stomach,  but  it  matters  not  anyway.  Cap  did 
some  splendid  work  in  bringing  down  the  little 
fellow  at  the  final  distance  at  which  he  was  hit — 
about  400  yards,  on  the  run.  We  reached  our 
siwash  camp  with  the  skin,  bones  and  meat  of 
the  lamb  at  5  o'clock. 

We  arose  at  5  the  next  morning  and  at  6:30 
started  for  the  summit  with  rams  as  our  sole  ob- 
jective. The  crest  of  the  mountain  toward  which 
we  climbed  was  semi-circular  in  form,  leaving  an 
amphitheater-shaped  depression  within  the  hol- 
low of  the  mountainside.  Toward  this  hollow 
we  climbed,  passing  en  route  the  ridge  from 

167 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

which,  on  our  inward  trip,  we  had  made  such  a 
mess  in  shooting  at  the  two  lambs  recorded  in 
an  earlier  chapter.  We  climbed  this  ridge,  as  it 
led  up  to  the  rim  of  our  goal,  and  when  about 
half-way  up  we  saw  seven  sheep  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  ridge.  They  proved  to  be  young  rams 
and  ewes,  so  we  left  them  undisturbed. 

We  finally  reached  the  summit,  2,500  feet 
higher  than  our  siwash  camp,  and  continued 
to  follow  around  the  semi-circular  rim.  Soon  we 
reached  a  point  from  which  we  saw  sheep  with 
the  glasses  about  three  miles  away  and  far  below 
us  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  mountain  from 
camp.  As  we  neared  the  precipice  of  the  sum- 
mit we  detected  other  scattering  bands  below  us, 
until  finally  the  slopes  of  that  mountain  for  a 
square  mile  or  two  were  dotted  with  white 
specks.  We  stood  at  one  point  and  counted 
eighty-eight  ewes  and  lambs,  but  not  a  ram 
seemed  to  be  in  evidence.  They  were  peacefully 
feeding,  or  lying  down,  in  bunches  of  twos,  threes 
and  up  to  ten,  with  here  and  there  a  single  sheep. 

We  nearly  frightened  a  little  lamb  to  death. 
It  was  first  seen  at  about  fifty  feet  below  us,  and 
we,  being  unobserved,  were  able  to  come  on  it 
rather  suddenly.  When  we  showed  ourselves 
a  swooping  eagle  from  the  skies  could  not  have 
had  a  more  demoralizing  effect  on  that  young 
sheep.  It  simply  tumbled  all  over  itself  getting 
to  its  mother.  The  very  small  proportionate 
number  of  lambs  seen  before  us  (not  nearly  as 

168 


RAMS  AND  CARIBOU 

manv  as  of  ewes)  bore  strong  testimony  to  the 
terrible  toll  that  the  eagles  take  of  the  young 
sheep.  I  mentally  resolved  at  sight  of  this  con- 
vincing evidence  to  begin  a  new  and  unending 
warfare  on  these  piratical  birds.  While  their 
damage  to  sheep  life  is  proverbial,  even  in  the 
States,  I  don't  believe  any  given  area  in  Mon- 
tana or  Wyoming  has  one-tenth  the  number  of 
eagles  that  is  found  in  a  similar  area  in  Alaska 
and  Yukon  Territory.  They  are  to  be  seen  there 
almost  continually.  Bounties  on  eagles  should 
be  placed  sufficiently  high  as  to  reduce  their 
number  below  the  present  point  of  danger  to 
mountain  sheep  and  other  game.  The  present 
bounty  on  these  birds  in  Alaska  is  only  50  cents 
— it  could  better  be  $5.00. 

As  we  were  after  rams,  the  pastoral  scene  be- 
low had  no  interest  for  us  beyond  the  enjoyment 
of  it  and  the  instructive  feature  connected  with 
it;  therefore,  we  reluctantly  turned  from  the 
beautiful  spectacle  and  faced  toward  the  bolder 
summits  of  ramland.  We  crossed  a  "saddle" 
and  soon  found  ourselves  on  top  of  a  very  rugged 
peak  with  precipitous,  black  sides.  To  the  far- 
ther point  of  this  we  walked  and  took  a  peep  into 
the  abyss,  or  canon,  below.  The  first  glance  dis- 
closed six  nice  rams  lying  together  on  a  grassy 
slope,  1,000  feet  below  and  almost  immediately 
beneath  us.  It  was  now  1 130  p.  m.  and  Cap  felt 
a  little  dubious  about  our  making  the  stalk  and 
getting  our  rams  in  any  seasonable  time  at  all. 

169 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

The  day  was  clear  and  comparatively  calm,  and 
Cap  guessed  that  if  we  could  slide  off  the  moun- 
tain on  the  east  side  (the  rams  were  south  of  us) 
the  wind  would  be  in  our  favor  for  the  stalk.  A 
look  down  the  east  side  showed  it  to  be  a  rather 
precarious  drop.  In  fact,  we  might  .find  that  it 
could  not  be  made  at  all.  For  over  200  feet  from 
the  top  the  drop  was  almost  perpendicular. 
Only  by  following  fissures  and  taking  advantage 
of  projecting  "steps"  could  we  hope  to  descend. 
Cap  didn't  think  we  could  make  it,  but  we  per- 
severed, and  finally  found  ourselves  successfully 
worming  our  way  down.  Once  this  ledge  was 
negotiated,  the  rest  seemed  easy.  We  were  soon 
down  on  the  steep,  grassy  slopes  where  the  un- 
even contours  afforded  excellent  stalking  ground. 
We  approached  to  within  500  yards  of  the 
bunch,  which  by  this  time  had  arisen  and  were 
working  in  a  quarterly  direction  our  way,  slowly 
feeding.  They  were  moving  like  snails,  or  so  it 
seemed  to  the  two  hunters  located  eleven  miles 
from  permanent  camp  who  expected  to  get  in 
before  midnight.  They  were  feeding  toward  a 
slight  rise,  and  as  their  course  would  take  them 
below  and  beyond  it,  we  awaited  eagerly  the 
time  when  the  little  knoll  would  cover  them,  ex- 
pecting at  that  moment  to  make  a  dash  for  some 
projecting  rocks  a  couple  of  hundred  yards 
nearer  them.  We  dared  not  now  make  such  a 
sneak  for  fear  of  exposing  ourselves.  From  their 
present  snail-like  progress  we  surmised  it  would 

170 


c 

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1.5 

u   y 

o   co 

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3    -i 


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I    Z 
I    § 


CO  *, 

B 

IE  D. 

CO  <r> 

8  « 

u  *° 


RAMS  AND  CARIBOU 

take  them  at  least  half  an  hour  to  work  under 
cover,  and  each  minute  of  that  thirty  was  golden 
to  us,  who  begrudged  every  delay  they  made. 
We  lay  behind  some  projecting  rocks  awaiting 
developments.  I  heard  a  gurgling  sound  and 
looked  back  to  find  Cap  asleep.  In  about  the 
conjectured  time  one  of  the  rams  vanished  be- 
hind the  knoll.  A  5o-foot  blanket  would  cover 
the  remaining  five  as  they,  too,  disappeared.  I 
awoke  Cap  with  a  slap  and  we  were  soon  moving 
fast  toward  our  goal  behind  the  rocky  ledge.  We 
followed  this  projection  fifty  yards,  then  sank 
into  a  swale,  which  we  followed  a  ways  and 
finally  came  out  above  them  about  250  yards 
away.  Cap  spied  on  them  and  said  he  could  kill 
one  from  where  we  lay.  I  advised  a  further 
stalk,  and  as  it  seemed  favorable  owing  to  a 
slight  depression  lying  for  seventy-five  yards 
ahead  of  us,  we  crept  and  slid  toward  them  until 
we  were  about  1 50  yards  away.  I  raised  up  and 
saw,  for  the  first  time,  that  they  were  disturbed. 
My  first  shot  standing,  I  am  ashamed  to  say, 
missed.  Cap  said  he  would  hold  his  fire  until  I 
had  one  down.  My  second  shot  piled  one  of 
them  up,  but  he  was  soon  up  and  moving.  By 
this  time  they  were  all  going.  Cap  missed  his 
first  shot,  a  most  difficult  one  at  best,  but  his 
next  knocked  one  over.  Then  I  hit  one,  bringing 
him  down,  but  he  was  up  again.  He  walked 
slow,  as  he  was  hard  hit.  Cap  chased  after  the 
fleeing  ones  and  on  the  run  at  400  yards  he  was 

171 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

able  to  bring  another  down.  I  remained  back 
and  finished  my  two  wounded  rams,  while  Cap, 
not  knowing  that  I  had  killed  these  crippled 
one's,  kept  firing  until  he  had  two  down.  This 
made  four  total — plenty  for  the  museum  and  for 
personal  trophies.  All  the  rams  killed  by  us  had 
full  curls  of  horn  and  base  measurements  around 
13  Yz  to  14  inches,  very  nice  average  ovis  dalli, 
8  to  10  years  old. 

Intending  to  dress  the  two  that  I  had  killed,  I 
descended  into  a  little  canon  where  lay  the  first 
one,  and  after  he  was  gralloched  I  climbed  to- 
ward the  other,  when  I  heard  Cap's  voice  calling 
me  from  far  up  the  draw  on  our  homeward 
course.  He  called  so  long  and  persistently  that 
I  started  for  him,  leaving  my  other  ram  un- 
touched, as  well  as  passing  one  of  his  on  the  way 
that  had  not  been  dressed.  I  couldn't  under- 
stand Cap's  anxiety  (for  at  first,  while  he  was 
out  of  sight,  I  feared  that  he  might  have  had  an 
accident);  but  when  after  a  half-hour's  climbing 
I  reached  him  he  said  we  must  hurry  if  we  were 
to  get  to  camp  before  midnight — that  it  would  be 
all  right  to  leave  the  animals  out  overnight 
without  dressing  them. 

After  congratulating  Cap  on  his  wonderful 
shooting  (for  it  was  an  exhibition  that  brought 
forth  my  greatest  admiration,  owing  to  the  dis- 
tance at  which  he  killed  his  two  sheep — around 
AOO  yards — and  the  fact  that  they  were  traveling 
fast),  we  climbed  up  the  divide  toward  camp. 

172 


RAMS  AND  CARIBOU 

It  was  5  p.  m.  when  we  crawled  out  of  this  "pot- 
hole" onto  the  saddle  above,  and  6  o'clock  when 
(with  the  assistance  of  Longley,  who  had  come 
to  meet  us  with  the  saddle  horses)  we  reached 
our  siwash  camp.  It  took  us  just  twenty  minutes 
to  pack  our  tent,  bedding,  etc.,  on  the  horse,  and 
at  8:30  we  reached  our  permanent  camp,  across 
the  White  River. 

Here  we  learned  of  Harry's  failure  on  game 
while  on  his  siwash  trip  on  the  Upper  Kletsan 
with  Brownie.  It  seems  they  made  temporary 
camp  on  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day  on  one  of 
the  tributaries  of  the  Kletsan  that  headed  in  the 
foothills  of  Mt.  Natazhat.  After  lunch  Brownie 
took  a  reconnoiter  up  farther  toward  the  moun- 
tain and  soon  discovered  some  rams.  He  hur- 
ried back  to  camp  to  tell  Harry,  but  by  the  time 
he  arrived  it  was  found  too  late  to  go  for  them 
that  day,  so  it  was  planned  to  get  an  early  start 
on  the  morrow. 

Next  morning  it  seems  Brownie  couldn't  tell 
positively  which  mountain  or  ridge  he  had  seen 
the  sheep  on.  This  upset  the  plans  so  com- 
pletely that  they  decided  to  abandon  the  idea  of 
going  for  these  rams,  but  to  skirt  the  mountain 
to  the  west  in  the  hope  of  finding  others  and 
return  by  way  of  Camp  Creek.  This  plan  was 
followed,  but  without  seeing  any  game  at  all. 
Consequently  Harry  was  a  very  much  dis- 
couraged man  when  he  arrived  at  camp  and  our 
heartiest  sympathy  went  out  to  him.  He  had 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

fully  counted  on  getting  a  ram,  for  either  the 
museum  or  himself,  and  had  worked  hard  for  it. 

During  the  two  days  that  we  were  gone  Wil- 
liam and  Billy  Wooden  hunted  moose.  The 
first  day  they  covered  fifteen  miles  on  foot  and 
the  second  twenty-two  miles  (sixteen  of  which 
was  afoot),  and,  while  the  section  hunted  was 
the  best  moose  country  in  that  vicinity,  they 
failed  to  even  see  an  animal. 

Rogers  and  Shorty,  on  the  second  day  of  our 
absence,  went  out  for  moose,  and  while  taking 
a  rest  in  sight  of  a  likely  looking  lake  Shorty  fell 
asleep.  Soon  Rogers  saw  something  move  at  the 
shore  of  this  lake  and  finally  detected  three  car- 
ibou there — a  big  bull  and  three  smaller  bulls, 
all  with  clean  antlers.  This,  indeed,  was  a  find 
for  our  taxidermist,  and  with  true  zeal  and 
Indian-like  stealth  he  removed  his  shoes  and 
approached  them  in  his  stocking  feet.  The  car- 
ibou were  feeding  on  a  bar  at  the  edge  of  a  lake, 
perfectly  unmindful  of  the  impending  danger. 
Al  was  able  to  reach  a  spot  175  yards  from  them 
and  opened  up  on  the  big  bull  with  his  .303.  The 
first  shot  broke  the  animal's  front  leg,  the  next 
came  within  a  few  inches  of  his  heart,  and  the 
third  hit  the  heart.  The  fourth  shot  broke  his 
hind  leg.  One  shot  six  inches  from  the  heart 
finished  one  of  the  other  bulls. 

Shorty,  awakened  by  the  bombardment,  after 
dreaming  that  he  was  hunting  goats  from  an 
aeroplane,  jumped  into  his  senses  and  tore  down 

174 


RAMS  AND  CARIBOU 

to  the  lake  in  haste  to  congratulate  his  lucky 
companion.  William  and  Billy,  who  were  hunt- 
ing moose  in  that  vicinity,  attracted  by  the 
shooting,  came  over  and  were  delighted  to  note 
the  nice  pair  that  Rogers  drew.  He  and  Shorty 
remained  with  the  animals,  skinning  them  out 
and  packing  up  the  meat,  bones  and  hides,  ar- 
riving in  camp  at  midnight.  As  this  was  the 
first  and  only  game  killed  by  Al,  he  was  warmly 
congratulated  by  all  of  us  over  his  splendid  suc- 
cess. The  measurements  of  antlers  on  his  big 
bull  were  as  follows:  Length  of  beam,  outside 
curve,  52  in.;  spread,  37  in.;  points,  left  side, 
14  in.;  right,  15  in. 

This  day  one  of  the  packers  killed  a  cow  moose 
that  in  size  and  pelage  made  a  good  mate  for  my 
bull. 

The  following  morning  I  left  camp  in  company 
with  Bill  Longley  and  Jimmie  Brown  for  the 
scene  of  our  sheep  killing  of  the  day  before.  We 
left  camp  at  8  o'clock  and  reached  the  game 
(eleven  miles  away)  at  I.  When  we  found  the 
rams,  we  saw,  to  our  disgust,  that  the  eagles  had 
scratched  and  torn  much  hair  from  the  bodies 
of  three  of  them,  leaving  the  other  unharmed. 
As  I  rounded  a  turn  in  the  canon  where  my  first 
ram  lay  I  saw  a  big  golden  eagle  perched  on  the 
carcass.  I  could  easily  have  killed  the  bird  if  I 
had  taken  my  gun,  but,  having  secured  all  the 
sheep  we  desired,  I  walked  down  the  300  yards 
to  the  ram  unarmed.  When  I  reached  the  sheep 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

I  found  a  patch  a  foot  square  on  the  side  of  the 
belly  denuded  of  hair,  apparently  picked  off  with 
the  bill.  The  entrails  were  found  just  as  I  had 
left  them  the  evening  before,  untouched,  while 
the  opening  in  the  body  had  also  not  been 
touched.  Where  the  hair  was  picked  off  the  skin 
was  unharmed,  the  object  in  tearing  off  the  ?iair 
apparently  being  one  of  mischief  rather  than  of 
food  supply.  The  other  two  rams  were  damaged 
similarly  to  the  one  just  described,  the  skin  on 
the  bodies  in  no  case  being  punctured — a  pretty 
sure  indication  that  the  eagles  of  Alaska,  altho 
prevailing  in  great  numbers,  do  not  suffer  much 
from  scarcity  of  food. 

Later,  when  we  returned  to  camp  and  de- 
scribed the  work  of  the  eagles,  one  of  the  men 
remarked  that  it  was  no  wonder — after  leaving 
the  animals  out  over  night  without  dressing 
them.  It  seemed  to  be  the  impression  also 
among  others  with  whom  I  later  conversed  on 
the  subject  that  eagles  would  damage  undressed 
animals,  but  not  those  which  had  been  dressed. 
However,  this  theory  is  proven  false  by  the  fact 
that  the  one  which  I  gralloched  was  spoiled  the 
worst,  while  they  left  unharmed  one  which  had  , 
not  been  dressed. 

As  three  of  these  specimens  were  useless  to 
the  museum,  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  take 
the  two  killed  by  me  as  personal  trophies  and 
Harry  the  remaining  one.  Their  usefulness  for 

176 


RAMS  AND  CARIBOU 

wall  mounts  was  in  no  manner  impaired,  as  none 
of  the  necks  or  shoulders  were  spoiled. 

Most  all  the  rams  killed  by  us  carried  horns  of 
the  diverging  type.  As  to  the  terms  "narrow" 
and  "diverging"  as  used  to  describe  the  character 
of  spread  in  sheep  horns,  there  does  not  seem  to 
be  a  perfect  unanimity  of  understanding  among 
sportsmen  on  the  significance  of  the  terms.  For 
instance,  one  set  of  sportsmen  (the  writer  in- 
cluded) has  classed  as  "narrow"  the  heads  of 
narrow  spread,  and  as  "diverging"  those  of  wide 
spread.  Charles  Sheldon,  author  of  "The  Wil- 
derness of  the  Upper  Yukon"  and  other  books, 
and  who  has  given  deep  study  to  the  big  game  of 
the  North,  says  that  insofar  as  his  use  of  the 
terms  is  concerned,  it  is  a  question  of  angles 
wholly — with  the  cheek  of  the  animal  as  the 
perpendicular.  When  the  horn  sweeps  downward 
approaching  this  perpendicular  (some  horns,  I 
believe,  almost  parallel  it)  he  classes  it  as  the 
"narrow"  type.  As  horns  sweep  outward  to- 
ward a  right  angle  they  diverge  away  from  the 
perpendicular.  This  type  he  calls  "diverging." 
Thus,  a  set  of  horns  with  an  exceedingly  wide 
spread,  such  as  ovis  poli  and  ovis  ammon  (Asiatic 
specimens)  would  be  classed  by  Sheldon  as  nar- 
now  types,  because,  although  they  flare  out  at 
the  tips  and  have  world-record  spreads,  they 
sweep  downward  close  to  the  cheek  of  the  animal 
before  flaring  out. 


177 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

I  cannot  refrain  from  expressing  a  slight  pref- 
erence for  the  narrow  type  (small  spread)  horn 
as  compared  to  the  diverging  (wide  spread). 
This  statement  applies  not  only  to  our  noble 
Rocky  Mountain  sheep  (ovis  canadensis] >  but  to 
the  beautiful  white  (and  allied)  sheep  of  the 
North  as  well. 

When  we  reached  camp  at  8:30  p.  m.  we 
learned  that  Harry  and  Wooden  had  spent  the 
day  moose  hunting  south  of  camp,  but  without 
success.  William,  Al  and  Cap  went  for  the  cow 
moose  that  was  killed  the  day  before. 

Thus  ended  the  hunting  days  of  our  party  on 
this  trip,  so  we  planned  to  leave  for  McCarthy 
the  next  morning.  In  some  respects  the  event 
of  our  leaving  the  hunting  country  ushered  in  a 
certain  degree  of  sadness.  Our  trip  had  been 
wonderfully  filled  with  experience  and  adven- 
ture; our  endurance  had  at  times  been  tested  to 
the  limit;  we  were  taking  home  some  beautiful 
specimens  for  our  museum  (with  others  later  to 
follow  which  our  guides  promised  would  be  sent) ; 
so  to  some  extent  we  relished  the  change  that 
was  to  take  us  to  the  outside. 


178 


V^inth  Chapter 


NINTH  CHAPTER 

A  NEW  SPECIES  OF  CARIBOU 
RANGIFER  McGUIREI 

I  LE  the  whole  purpose  of  our  trip  to 
the  North  was  collecting  specimens,  yet 
unconsciously,  it  seems,  we  were  so  fortunate 
as  to  discover  a  species  of  caribou  that  was 
quite  new  to  science.  This  form  is  charac- 
terized by  the  differences  in  the  color  and  mark- 
ings, the  form  of  the  antlers  and  the  cranial  and 
dental  variations  when  compared  with  its  rela- 
tives, osborni  on  the  south,  and  stonei  on  the 
west. 

Of  interest  in  the  present  connection  is  the 
evidence  that  the  herds  of  migratory  caribou 
that  cross  the  Yukon  River  in  the  vicinity  of 
Fairbanks  belong  to  this  variety,  for  while  the 
type  specimen  was  obtained  far  south  of  that 
point,  the  number  of  animals  is  greatly  increased 
during  the  fall  months  through  arrivals  from  the 
northwest,  and  it  is  probable  the  type  locality 
represents  the  southern  limits  of  the  breeding 
range  of  mcguirei. 

I  am  including  a  description  of  the  new 
181 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

species  herewith,  as  well  as  some  cuts  illustrating 
the  vital  characteristics,  for  I  feel  that  I  would 
be  quite  lacking  in  appreciation  if  I  should  fail 
to  describe  the  animal  in  this  volume  and  thereby 
acknowledge  the  compliment  that  has  been  paid 
me  by  Jesse  D.  Figgins,  director  of  the  Colorado 
Museum  of  Natural  History,  in  naming  the  new 
caribou  in  my  honor: 

DESCRIPTION  OF  A  NEW  SPECIES  OF  CARIBOU  FROM 

THE  REGION  OF  THE  ALASKA-YUKON 

BOUNDARY 

BY  J.  D.  FIGGINS 

During  August  and  September,  1918,  Messrs. 
J.  A.  McGuire  and  H.  C.  James  secured  for  the 
Colorado  Museum  of  Natural  History,  in  the 
region  of  the  Alaska- Yukon  boundary,  various 
specimens  of  large  mammals.  Among  these  are 
six  examples  of  caribou  and  as  they  differ  ma- 
terially when  compared  with  osborni  and  the 
published  pictured  description  of  stonei,  it  is 
proposed  that  they  be  known  as 

Rangifer  mcguirei,  Sp.  Nov.* 

Characters. — Absence  of  white  around  the 
eyes  (only  faintly  suggested  in  one  young  speci- 
men); back  darker  than  legs;  tip  of  nose  and 

'Rangifer  Mcguirei  Is  named  In  honor  of  Mr.  J.  A.  McGuire,  of  Denver, 
Colorado,  who,  as  a  naturalist-sportsman  and  editor  of  "Outdoor  Life,"  has  been 
one  of  the  foremost  leaders  in  the  protection  of  North  American  game  animals  and 
whose  example  and  influence  have  been  of  inestimable  value  in  establishing  a  higher 
standard  of  sportsmanship. 

182 


A  NEW  SPECIES  OF  CARIBOU 

lower  lip  silvery  white;  between  the  jaws,  entire 
throat  and  sides  of  neck  and  over  shoulders 
varying  from  brownish  gray  in  calves  of  the 
year  to  white  in  fully  mature  examples;  backs 
of  ears  and  along  the  posterior  portion  of  head 
and  neck  light  grayish,  being  gradually  displaced 
by  white  or  yellowish  gray  towards  the  shoul- 
ders; a  broad  band  of  grayish  buff  or  buffy 
white  extending  diagonally  from  the  color  of  the 
shoulders  to  the  region  of  the  elbow  and  along 
the  sides  to  flank.  (The  last  named  characters 
vary  with  the  age  of  the  animal,  but  are  pro- 
nounced in  all  examples  from  a  calf  of  the  year 
to  fully  adult  specimens — the  markings  on  the 
shoulders  and  sides  being  the  most  prominent 
in  young  animals,  the  white  neck  being  acquired 
upon  full  development.)  A  band  of  dark  brown 
separating  light  stripe  on  sides  from  white  of 
underparts. 

Hoofs,  small;  antlers,  differing  in  type  when 
compared  with  osborni  and  stonei,  notably  in  the 
length  of  single  brow  tine  and  the  formation  of 
the  first  branch. 

Skull,  excessive  anterior  cleft  and  flattening 
of  nasals;  length  and  backward  curvature  of  the 
paroccipital  processes;  width  of  lachrymals, 
smooth  and  rounded  surface  of  processes  above 
ml  and  m2  (see  illustration  for  dentition). 

Type. — Adult  male,  Kletsan  creek,  a  tribu- 
tary of  the  White  River,  four  miles  east  of  the 

183 


IN  THE  ALASKA. YUKON  GAMELANDS 

Alaska- Yukon  boundary,  Sept.  9,  1918.  Col- 
lected by  A.  C.  Rogers,  Colorado  Museum  of 
Natural  History,  No.  1846,  field  No.  23. 

Measurements  from  the  freshly  killed  animal. — 
Length,  2472;  tail,  224;  hind  foot,  659;  length 
of  front  hoofs,  no  and  106;  length  of  hind 
hoofs,  97  and  98. 

Description. — Type:  ends  of  nose  and  lower 
lip,  silvery  white;  upper  portions  of  face,  light 
fuscous,  darker  adjoining  the  white  on  nose; 
sides  of  face,  including  region  about  the  eyes, 
light  hair  brown;  backs  of  ears  and  posterior 
portion  of  neck,  light  yellowish  gray,  the  latter 
displaced  with  very  pale  brownish  or  grayish 
white  on  base  of  neck  and  across  upper  shoul- 
ders; under  jaws,  entire  throat  and  sides  of  neck 
white,  merging  into  the  color  of  upper  neck  and 
shoulders;  an  acute  "V"  shaped  stripe  back  of 
elbow  pointing  towards  flank;  back,  hair  brown; 
sides,  drab;  legs,  slightly  darker;  belly  and  anal 
region,  white;  tail  with  wedge-shaped  stripe  of 
drab  on  upper  surface. 

Skull  measurements: 

Basal  length 387 

Tip  of  premaxilla  to  nasal 126 

Length  of  nasals 122 

Tip  of  premaxilla  to  alveolus  of  p1 146 

Breadth  at  ma 107 

Mastoid  breadth 148 

Zygomatic  breadth 154 

Palatal  breadth  at  m2 74 

184 


i 


A  NEW  SPECIES  OF  CARIBOU 

Upper  tooth  row 104 

Canine  to  p1 73 

Depth  of  skull  between  antlers 114 

Antlers,  main  beam  along  curve 1202 

Greatest  spread  of  beams 954 

Distance  between  points  of  beams , . . . .  819 

Breadth  of  palmation 89 

Length  of  single  brow  tine 407 

Length  of  palmated  brow  tine 407 

Length  of  first  branch  along  curve 586 

Range. — While  Rangifer  mcguirei  breed  in  lim- 
ited numbers  in  the  vicinity  of  the  type  locality, 
they  represent  but  a  small  percentage  of  those 
that  appear  from  the  north  and  northwest  during 
September  and  October.  It  is  probable  this 
movement  is  an  extension  of  the  migration  of 
caribou  which  occurs  in  the  region  of  Fairbanks; 
but  until  there  is  positive  evidence  of  this,  the 
range  of  mcguirei  may  be  designated  as  the  vi- 
cinity of  the  Alaska- Yukon  boundary  from  the 
base  of  Mt.  St.  Elias  northward. 


185 


Tenth  Chapter 


HOMEWARD    BOUND 


TENTH   CHAPTER 
HOMEWARD  BOUND 

AT  4  o'clock  on  the  morning  following  our 
{•*•  return  with  the  rams  which  Cap  and  I  had 
killed  (September  10),  Longley  and  his  packers 
were  astir  and  went  horse- wrangling.  They  re- 
turned at  7,  however,  without  success.  After 
breakfast  they  went  out  again,  and  at  noon 
returned  with  the  horses,  minus  four  that  could 
not  be  found.  The  opinion  prevailed  that  they 
had  gone  back  to  the  Generc,  eighteen  miles  • 
east,  where  their  favorite  pea-vine  grows  in  such 
profusion.  Following  a  short  consultation  after 
lunch,  Jimmie  Brown  was  dispatched  to  the 
Generc  with  orders  to  find  the  horses  and  return 
as  soon  as  possible.  Accordingly,  he  packed  a 
scanty  grubstake  that  would  hardly  fill  an  or- 
dinary hat,  and  without  taking  frying  pan, 
knife  or  fork,  tied  his  meager  grub  sack  to  the 
side  of  his  saddle  and  mounted.  "Where  is  your 
bedding?''  I  asked.  "My  saddle  blankets,"  said 
he  laconically,  and  he  rode  off.  When  I  reflected 
that  the  stream  at  our  door  froze  the  night  before 
and  that  a  cup  of  water  in  my  tent  the  same 
night  froze  solid,  and  furthermore  that  Jimmy 

189 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

might  be  gone  several  days  for  those  pea-vine- 
mad  horses,  I  inwardly  congratulated  myself 
that  it  was  he  and  not  I  that  was  embarking  on 
that  journey  with  such  a  scant  outfit,  and  yet  I 
felt  heartily  sorry  for  that  frail  little  man  of  iron 
nerve  and  indomitable  spirit,  for  even  a  seasoned 
sourdough  finds  a  limit  to  his  perserverance  and 
hardship. 

We  were  very  anxious  to  get  away  as  soon  as 
possible  in  order  to  meet  our  boat,  the  North- 
western, going  down.  It  was  on  this  craft  that 
we  had  engaged  berths,  and  if  it  were  missed 
there  was  no  telling  when  we  should  be  able  to 
leave  Alaska  owing  to  the  vast  numbers  of  people 
migrating  from  there  at  that  time.  Therefore, 
as  evening  approached  we  evinced  a  desire  to 
get  away  next  morning  if  that  were  possible  with- 
out Jimmie  and  the  four  missing  horses.  By 
estimating  the  quantity  of  non-perishable  things 
we  had  on  hand,  we  figured  that  we  had  about 
enough  bones,  horns  and  antlers  to  pack  four 
horses,  and  therefore  it  was  decided  to  split  up 
our  specimens,  taking  with  us  the  hides,  horns 
in  velvet  and  all  other  necessary  and  perishable 
articles  and  leave  the  horns  and  bones  for  Jimmy 
to  pack  in. 

Someone  asked,  after  meditating  on  Jimmy's 
inability  to  lead  us  across  the  Russell  Glacier, 
"Who'll  lead  us  over  the  ice?"  "Hell!"  spoke 
up  Shorty,  the  "reader"  of  dangerous  glacial 
streams  and  the  interpreter  of  soughing  winds, 

190 


The  singular  dentition  found  in  Rangifer  Mcguirei 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 

"I'll  take  you  across  that  glacier  and  guarantee 
a  safe  crossing.  Ice  fields  are  no  worse  to  cross 
than  ice  streams.  Fully  as  many  men  have  lost 
their  lives  in  the  streams  as  on  the  glaciers" — 
and  we  realized  the  truth  of  his  statement,  for 
with  the  ever-present  quicksand  and  the  con- 
stant changing  of  the  channels,  stream  travel 
by  packs  is  very  dangerous. 

A  stream  like  the  White,  the  Nizina  or  the 
Generc  has  a  stream-bed  (or  bar)  of  approxi- 
mately two  miles  across  on  the  average.  This 
bar  (as  I  believe  I  have  already  stated)  is  com- 
posed of  boulders,  gravel,  sand  and  quicksand. 
The  latter  is  so  common  that  the  traveler  must 
needs  be  constantly  on  the  lookout  for  it.  Horses 
have  been  lost  in  the  quicksands  of  the  White 
and  tributary  streams,  and  it  is  no  very  un- 
common thing  to  have  to  pull  a  sinking  horse  out 
by  the  neck. 

To  look  across  one  of  these  bars  one  would 
naturally  take  it  for  a  waterless  waste  of  sand 
and  boulders,  but  when  you  travel  out  over  its 
surface  you  encounter  the  channel — or  one  of 
them,  as  most  always  there  are  several — thru 
which  rushes  in  mad  fury  the  glacial,  muddy 
water. 

Next  morning,  September  I2th,  after  leaving 
some  provisions  and  a  note  of  instructions  for 
Brownie,  we  packed  up  and  departed  McCarthy- 
ward.  Good  spirits  pervaded  all,  and  weather 
and  trail  conditions  being  favorable  we  made 

191 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

/ 

pretty  good  time  to  North  Fork  Island,  our 
camping  place.  Harry  and  I  went  ahead,  hoping 
to  see  a  moose,  caribou  or  bear.  I  got  a  shot  at 
a  red  fox  at  seventy-five  yards,  but  punctured 
only  the  innocent  atmosphere.  This  shot  really 
belonged  to  Harry,  but  in  going  thru  the  "after- 
you-Alphonse"  stunt  for  nearly  a  minute,  with 
no  show  of  his  accepting  a  shot,  I  fired.  In  his 
usual  good-natured  way  he  said  I  ploughed  a 
furrow  in  the  animal's  hair,  but  I  know  that  the 
only  furrow  that  was  ploughed  was  thru  the 
aerated  liquid  enveloping  it. 

Next  morning  was  a  momentous  one,  as  we 
were  to  cross  the  glacier  that  day.  Harry  and  I 
again  left  ahead  of  the  outfit  (at  8:30),  following 
the  bed  of  the  White.  We  came  to  within  a  mile 
or  two  of  the  glacier  by  noon.  From  the  point 
where  we  ate  our  lunch  its  whitened  teeth  seemed 
to  gnash  defiance  at  our  approach.  A  study  of 
the  great  mountain  precipices  on  either  side  of 
it  showed  that  the  glacier  grinds  down  a  veritable 
gulch  gash,  tearing  up  the  sides  of  the  canon  in 
its  slow  but  certain  descent. 

And  here  was  found  much  food  for  reflection 
on  Alaska's  great  natural  wonders,  for  in  that 
country  there  are  at  work  many  opposing  forces 
of  both  human  and  terrestrial  nature.  Apropos 
of  this  is  a  story  told  on  the  boat  coming  down, 
namely:  "The  Frenchman's  toast  to  the  Ameri- 
can cocktail:  He  put  a  little  lemon  in  it  to  sour 
it,  a  little  sugar  in  it  to  sweeten  it,  a  little  ice  in  it 

192 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 

to  cool  it,  a  little  whiskey  in  it  to  warm  it — and  zen 
he  say,  'Here's  to  you,'  but  he  drink  it  heeself." 

Strong,  rugged  hearts  are  found  in  Alaska, 
and  they  belong  to  men  who  shrink  not  at  the 
sight  of  danger;  men  who  would  willingly  give 
up  their  lives,  if  necessary,  to  save  another — 
and  who  are  doing  this  very  thing  every  year. 

Soon  the  packs  came  up  and  we  began  to 
ascend  over  the  gulchy  moraine  to  the  bench  of 
the  glacier,  some  300  feet  in  elevation  above  the 
bed  of  the  White.  Once  on  the  glacier  we  became 
inspired  with  a  feverish  desire  to  move  fast,  for 
to  camp  on  a  glacier  would  be  a  most  unpleasant 
experience;  and  yet  there  were  many  delays,  for 
the  packs  would  get  bunched  however  careful 
we  might  be  in  trying  to  distribute  our  riders 
equidistant  between  them.  We  took  a  different 
route  from  the  one  coming  in,  also  a  shorter  one. 

We  had  been  on  the  glacier  about  three  hours, 
and  the  tired  horses  had  been  lagging  for  some 
time,  when  suddenly  a  stir  showed  up  in  the 
ranks  ahead.  Packs  jumped  aside  to  allow  a 
frenzied  rider  to  pass,  coming  our  way  at  full 
speed.  Broken  moraine  rocks  flipped  off  to 
either  side  of  the  trail,  sent  hither  and  thither 
by  the  clattering  hoofs  of  a  white  horse,  while 
Shorty's  Napoleonic  figure  agitated  and  vibrated 
with  excitement  as  he  swung  his  arms  in  com- 
manding gestures  on  passing  the  packs.  "Some- 
one hurt,"  said  Harry,  "or  Shorty  wouldn't  lose 
his  poise  in  that  manner."  I  fully  acquiesced, 


IN  THE  ALASKA- YUKON  GAMELANDS 

for  never  had  Shorty  shown  any  such  emotion 
before.  Down  the  slippery  hills  and  up  the  icy 
heights  of  the  glacier  Shorty  rode,  now  dipping 
into  an  icy  ravine,  again  appearing  silhouetted 
on  a  miniature  peak  or  divide  of  the  trail. 
Finally  he  came  within  hearing,  and  on  passing 
Jimmy,  the  cook,  he  yelled  vociferously:  "Spur 
up  the  knotheads  or  we'll  never  get  off  this 
glacier  tonight."  And  then  as  he  swung  behind 
a  couple  of  the  packs  in  front  of  us  and  faced 
right  about,  "G'lang  King;  Giddep  there,  Crop- 
pie,  dang  yer  ornery  hides;  ye'll  sleep  on  this 
glacier  tonight  if  ye  don't  quit  yer  pussy-footin' 
— slide  along!"  We  in  the  rear  spurted  up  a 
little,  but  we  weren't  at  all  jealous  of  the  risk 
that  Shorty  took  in  'loping  over  the  ice  in  his 
spectacular  ride. 

We  got  off  the  glacier  in  four  hours,  and 
reached  land  opposite  the  end  of  it  in  five  hours, 
one  hour  shorter  than  our  time  going  in.  We 
reached  Skolai  Pass  at  6:30  p.  m.,  in  good 
weather,  and  camped  opposite  that  grand  sen- 
tinel, James  Mountain,  named,  as  before  stated, 
in  honor  of  my  co-worker  on  this  expedition, 
Harry  C.  James. 

The  next  three  days'  travel  to  McCarthy  were 
uneventful.  We  traversed  the  same  route  we 
took  going  in — via  Clark's  roadhouse,  Mc- 
Cloud's,  Spruce  Point  and  Shorty  Gwin's.  Altho 
we  had  planned  on  taking  another  goat  hunt 
from  Clark's  while  coming  out,  yet  the  conditions 

194 


g 

CO 

I 

J 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 

were  not  favorable,  so  we  passed  it  up.  Near 
Shorty's,  when  we  were  about  to  recross  the  Ni- 
zina,  a  young  miner  walked  up,  carrying  rubber 
wading  boots,  saying  he  intended  to  ford  the 
stream.  But  it  looked  so  dangerous  that  we  in- 
vited him  to  climb  on  one  of  the  horses  behind 
the  pack,  which  he  gladly  did.  When  in  the 
middle  of  one  of  the  worst  channels  his  horse 
lost  its  footing  and  went  down.  The  young 
miner  went  into  the  stream  feet  first  and  half 
swam  and  half  floundered  down  to  my  horse, 
which  he  grabbed  with  much  vigor.  He  climbed 
on  behind  me,  and  Belle,  my  good  saddle  horse 
that  had  been  so  faithful  on  my  entire  trip, 
pulled  us  both  ashore,  much  to  my  comfort  of 
mind.  He  was  a  2oo-pounder,  and  I  170,  which, 
together  with  my  gun  and  other  belongings 
brought  the  combined  weight  that  Belle  carried 
in  that  roaring  torrent  to  about  400  pounds. 
We  reached  McCarthy  in  a  rainstorm  at  4 
p.  m.,  September  I7th,  after  an  absence  of  thirty- 
nine  days.  An  epitome  of  the  time  consumed  on 
the  entire  trip  is:  Denver  to  Alaska  and  return, 
sixty-nine  days;  actual  hunting,  twenty  days; 
on  way  from  McCarthy  to  farthest  camp  and 
return,  fourteen  days;  laid  up  for  rain  and  lost 
horses,  five  days.  On  our  total  trip  we  traveled 
7,200  miles,  including  pack  travel,  at  a  cost  of 
about  37,2oo — $1,800  for  each  person,  or  $1.00 
a  mile.  For  four  persons,  and  with  such  a  splen- 
did and  complete  outfit  as  Cap  Hubrick  gave  us, 

'95 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

his  price  was  very  reasonable,  as  $2,500.00  was 
the  price  charged  by  other  outfitters  for  one 
man,  for  a  4O-day  hunt. 

On  the  evening  of  our  arrival  in  McCarthy, 
after  separating  our  belongings  and  packing  up, 
we  repaired  to  McCarthy's  only  refreshment 
parlor.  The  country  being  "dry"  since  the  pre- 
vious January,  soft  drinks  only  were  dispensed, 
but  they  came  high  enough  to  remind  us  that  we 
were  in  the  Far  North.  Coca-Cola  and  other 
5-cent  drinks  in  the  States  sold  here  for  25  cents 
— in  fact,  there  is  no  drink  sold  over  the  bar  at 
McCarthy  for  less  than  25  cents.  As  we  sat  at 
a  table  imbibing  one  of  these  mixtures  I  noticed 
seated  at  the  same  table,  to  my  right,  a  big, 
square-shouldered  man  of  225  pounds  or  more, 
whose  good  nature  soon  gave  expression  to  a  re- 
mark, which  led  to  a  very  interesting  conversa- 
tion. He  had  been  thru  both  the  Klondike  and 
the  Shushanna  stampedes,  and  even  at  present 
was  engaged  in  pursuit  of  the  elusive  color.  He 
looked  about  50,  but  said  he  was  66,  and  that  he 
could  turn  a  handspring  or  swim  a  cold  stream 
as  well  as  ever.  And  I  believe  him.  His  name  is 
T.  W.  P.  Smith,  and  his  home  at  that  time  was 
Shushanna,  Alaska. 

A  most  pleasant  surprise  of  our  return  trip 
was  the  extension  by  Superintendent  Corser  of 
the  Copper  River  &  N.  W.  Railway,  of  the  same 
special  railroad  courtesies  returning  as  we  re- 
ceived going  up.  This  beautiful  little  private 

196 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 

car  that  was  ours  on  the  railroad  journey  back 
to  Cordova  was  a  delight  and  a  luxury  to  us  all, 
and  we  shall  always  remember  Mr.  Corser's  lib- 
erality and  kindness  in  tendering  us  the  use  of  it 
with  the  most  pleasant  thoughts. 

While  waiting  for  the  boat  at  the  Windsor 
Hotel,  Cordova,  Alaska,  I  was  presented  with  a 
card  bearing  this  inscription: 

THEODORE  R.  HUBBACK, 

Pertang,  Jelebu,  Fed.  Malay  States, 
Via  Singapore. 

Mr.  Hubback  was  on  his  way,  in  the  company 
of  a  friend,  Mr.  Keeler,  to  Kenai  Peninsula  for 
moose  and  sheep.  Having  killed  rhino,  hippo, 
elephant,  saladang  and  about  all  the  smaller 
kinds  of  game  found  in  his  country  and  there- 
abouts, he  now  came  to  the  United  States  on  a 
trip  consuming  two  months  from  Singapore  to 
kill  moose.  He  was  a  sportsman  thru  and  thru, 
and  since  then  I  have  received  correspondence 
telling  of  his  great  success  on  the  peninsula, 
where  he  secured  beautiful  specimens  of  moose 
and  sheep,  and  some  wonderful  photographs  of 
wild  bears.  He  is  the  author  of  a  couple  of 
interesting  books  on  the  subject  of  hunting  big 
game  in  his  country. 

After  a  long  delay  at  Cordova  waiting  for  our 
boat,  we  finally  boarded  it  for  the  journey  home, 
a  very  pleasant  one,  both  by  boat  and  train.  We 
arrived  in  Denver  on  October  4th  at  7 145  p.  m., 
after  an  absence  from  home  of  sixty-nine  days. 

197 


Eleventh  Chapter 


OUTFITTING   HINTS 


ELEVENTH  CHAPTER 
OUTFITTING  HINTS 

A  S  will  be  seen  by  the  accompanying  list,  sev- 
*•  eral  articles  that  were  taken  to  the  North 
were,  at  the  advice  of  our  guide,  Captain  Hubrick, 
never  carried  into  the  hunting  fields,  but  left  at 
McCarthy  until  our  return.  I  don't  believe, 
however,  there  was  a  thing  forgotten,  or  any- 
thing omitted  from  the  list  that  would  have 
added  in  any  measure  to  our  comfort  or  effi- 
ciency. While  I  have  always  been  a  great 
admirer  of  the  air  beds,  having  used  them  con- 
tinually for  twenty  years  (and  took  one  along  on 
this  occasion),  yet  I  was  fearful  before  leaving 
on  the  trip  that  my  rheumatism  might  not  go 
very  well  with  them,  so  I  took  my  eiderdown 
robe,  which  I  have  used  as  a  cold-weather  bed 
for  years.  There  is  nothing  to  beat  the  air  beds, 
even  in  ordinarily  cold  weather,  as  they  are  com- 
pact, durable,  rainproof  and  positively  the 
easiest  bed  to  sleep  on  that  can  be  found.  I 
usually  inflate  them  only  sufficient  to  allow  my 
fist  to  press  the  upper  and  lower  walls  together 
when  it  is  forced  down  hard  in  the  middle  of  the 
bed.  If  inflated  much  more  than  this  the  bed  is 


20 1 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

not  so  comfortable.    In  fact,  less  inflation  than 
that  mentioned  is  better  than  more. 

While  a  hickory  cleaning  rod  might  be  con- 
sidered as  rather  awkward  to  carry  on  such  a 
long  trip,  I  didn't  find  it  so  at  all,  as  it  fit  very 
nicely  into  my  rifle  carrying  case  on  train  and 
boat,  and  into  my  saddle  scabbard  while  travel- 
ing between  camps. 

While  we  all  took  mosquito  head  nets,  I  don't 
believe  any  of  us  used  them  more  than  once  or 
twice.  While  the  mosquitos  and  flies  were  bad 
at  times,  especially  during  the  early  part  of  our 
trip — and  on  Harris  Creek — the  trouble  soon 
passed  without  very  much  notice  by  us. 

I  was  fortunate  in  buying  a  Filson  cruising 
shirt  before  leaving,  for  without  it  I  would  have 
been  somewhat  handicapped.  This  is  not  a 
shirt  at  all,  but  more  of  a  coat,  but  it  serves  the 
purpose  under  any  name,  for  it  is  a  comfort  and 
a  blessing  on  any  trip.  It  is  cravenetted,  and 
therefore  reasonably  waterproof,  is  of  very  heavy 
wool,  with  all  kinds  of  handy  pockets,  each 
clasped,  and  has  even  the  game  pockets  in  rear. 
I  believe  I  wore  it  every  day,  and  it  is  yet  about 
as  good  as  new. 

Ordinarily,  one  can  use  about  the  same  cloth- 
ing on  the  White  River  in  any  summer  or  fall 
month  as  he  would  wear  a  month  later  in  the 
big  game  fields  of  Wyoming  or  Montana.  This 
also  applies  to  footwear.  If  I  should  go  there 
again  I  would  take  one  pair  of  ordinary  8  or  10- 

202 


OUTFITTING  HINTS 

inch  hunting  boots,  one  pair  of  light  boots  with  J 
rubber  vamps  and  soles,  and  one  pair  of  over- 
sized ordinary  walking  shoes,  nailed  with  Hun* 
garian  hobs.  The  boots  also  should  be  so 
nobbed.  Keep  your  hunting  boots  light.  No 
such  boot,  unless  a  man  is  a  giant,  should  weigh 
more  than  3^  pounds  to  the  pair.  An  ordinary 
pair  of  walking  shoes  weighs  two  pounds,  and 
when  this  weight  is  doubled,  as  often  it  is,  you 
are  lifting  too  much  at  each  step.  I  would 
rather  have  to  buy  a  new  pair  of  boots  for  each 
trip,  if  they  were  so  light  that  I'd  wear  them 
out  that  quick,  than  to  burden  myself  with 
4-pound  boots  that  would  last  a  lifetime.  Three-  • 
pound  boots  would  be  preferable  to  3>£-pound 
if  you  can  get  them.  I  am  speaking  now  for  the  ^ 
average-sized  man  (I  weigh  170  pounds). 

The  shoes  I  have  mentioned  are  for  sheep  and 
goat  hunting  and  for  long  caribou  and  moose 
hikes  without  the  horses  in  dry  country.  The 
rubber-vamp  boots  mentioned  are  for  boggy 
country  while  hunting  moose,  caribou  or  bear, 
while  the  leather  boots  are  for  hunting  in  dry  or 
cold  weather  and  for  riding. 

Don't  forget  the  rubber  folding  drinking  cup.  \/ 
I  have  used  it  for  twenty-five  years  continuously 
and  have  never  left  it  behind  yet.  It  lies  flat  in 
your  pocket  and  occupies  practically  no  space. 
Closing  as  it  does,  it  is  always  perfectly  clean  on 
the  inside,  however  dirty  looking  the  exterior 
may  be.  I,  like  others,  have  gone  thru  the  cart- 

003 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

ridge-belt  and  the  stooping-to-drink  days,  there- 
fore am  not  ashamed  to  drink  out  of  a  cup  in 
the  hills  any  more. 

v/  It  was  very  lucky  for  me  that  I  took  one  pair 
extra  of  each  of  the  eyeglasses  that  I  wear — the 
reading  and  the  long  distance — as  I  had  only 
gone  a  few  miles  from  McCarthy  before  I  broke 
my  reading  glasses.  I  found  it  mighty  handy, 
therefore,  to  resort  to  the  extra  pair  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  trip. 

Binoculars  are  a  necessary  article  on  a  trip  of 
this  kind.  I  have  used  several  pairs  during  the 
past  twenty-five  years.  About  twelve  years  ago 
I  purchased  a  pair  of  Alpine  binoculars  from 
Paul  Weiss,  the  manufacturer,  of  Denver,  and 
have  never  used  any  other  make  since  then. 
These  are  of  8  power,  but  after  seeing  Mr. 

v/  Weiss's  new  y-power  military  glass,  I  believe  it 
will  be  my  next  buy.  After  it  has  once  been 
fitted  to  the  eyes,  no  adjustment  is  necessary 
for  distance,  as  it  is  good  then  for  all  distances 
from  10  feet  to  infinity. 

As  our  guide's  rate  for  the  trip  included  the 
furnishing  of  provisions,  tents,  etc.,  we  didn't 
have  any  of  that  to  arrange  for,  except  that 
Harry  was  thoughtful  enough  at  Seattle  to  pick 
up  a  large  quantity  of  chocolate,  raisins,  etc., 
without  which  our  daily  lunches  while  hunting 
would  have  been  dry,  indeed. 

A  list  of  the  articles  taken  by  me  on  this  trip 
is  appended: 

204 


OUTFITTING  HINTS 

i  .30  U.  S.  Winchester  chambered  for  the  '03  ammunition. 

1  .30  U.  S.  Winchester  chambered  for  the  '06  ammunition. 
1 20  rounds  '06  Service  ammunition,  spitzer  bullet,  I5o-grain. 
1 20  rounds  '03  ammunition,  soft  point  bullet,  22o-grain. 

*i  .22  Stevens  pistol,  1 2-inch  barrel  and  holster  to  fit  over 

saddle  horn. 
*2oo  rounds  ammunition  for  same. 

2  non-leakable  oil  cans  for  3-in-i  oil. 

2  rifle  barrel  cleaners — one  hickory  rod  and  one  leather  pull. 
2  tarpaulins. 

1  pneumatic  air  bed. 

eiderdown  sleeping  robe  and  canvas  cover  for  same. 

8xio  wall  tent  (3-foot  wall). 

7x9  wall  tent  (2-foot  wall). 

7x7  tepee  with  canvas  floor — my  sleeping  tent. 

large  canvas  duffel  bag,  48  inches  long  and  26  wide  when 

laid  flat,  and  draw  rope. 

2  small  canvas  duffel  bags,  20x30  inches,  to  fit  in  large  bag, 
one  on  top  of  the  other  laid  down. 

2  very  small  canvas  bags,   12x18   inches,  to  hold  smaller 
knick-knacks,  hard  articles,  etc. 

i  pair  Alpine  binoculars, 
i  3-A  Eastman  kodak,  fitted  with  Goerz  lens. 
200  3-A  films,  purchased  fresh  from  the  Denver  Photo  Materials 
Co. 

3  pairs  gloves. 
Stetson  hat. 

light  corduroy  cap  with  earlaps  (never  used), 
pair  Outdoor  Life  hunting  scales,  weight  ^  pound, 
mosquito  head  net. 

suit  Gabardine  cloth,  pants  cut  off  2  inches  above  ankles, 
and  laced  over  calf  (seldom  used). 

i  suit,  cast-off  gray  wool  business  suit  and  extra  pair  of 
trousers,  both  pairs  of  trousers  reinforced  where  needed 
and  cut  short  below  calf,  to  lace  over  calf  (used  almost 
continuously,  alternating  the  coat  with  the  Filson  cruiser 
shirt). 

205 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

Filson  cruiser  shirt. 

leather  vest  with  sleeves  (never  used). 

Burberry  raincoat. 
6  pairs  heavy  woolen  socks. 

pair  old  Russell  Moccasin  boots,  12-inch. 

pair  new  Russell  Moccasin  boots,  1 2-inch. 
I  pair  Cutter  boots  with  rubber  vamps. 
*i  pair  walking  shoes  with  Neolin  soles,  for  light  work. 
3  suits  woolen  underwear. 
3  woolen  shirts, 
i  aneroid  barometer 

1  Jersey  skull  cap. 

2  rifle  scabbards. 
Needle  and  linen  thread. 

Absorbent  cotton,  medicated  gauze,  Sloan's  liniment,  Hen- 

kel's  pills,  peroxide,  etc. 

Fishing  line,  leader,  flies, 
i  small  handy  tool  kit. 

i  round,  small  French  plate  mirror  for  shaving, 
i  Marble  matchbox. 

Safety  pins — some  very  large  for  pinning  blankets. 

Lumberman's  calks. 

Hungarian  hobnails. 
j£  dozen  Marble's  safety  No.  83  hunting  knives — one  for  use 

and  five  for  presents, 
i  rubber  folding  drinking  cup. 
i  extra  pair  of  my  reading  and 

1  extra  pair  of  my  distance  glasses — for  emergency. 

2  pairs  colored  glasses  for  the  glacier  and  snow  traveling. 
*i  pair  spurs. 

Tooth  powder  and  brush. 
Burr's-threo  gun  oil. 
Hoppe's  No.  9  gun  oil. 
Pneumatic  bed  patching  outfit, 
i  can  Viscol  for  waterproofing  shoes  (never  used). 
Shaving  outfit. 

•Left  at  McCarthy  at  the  advice  of  guide. 
206 


OUTFITTING  HINTS 

Towels,  soap,  etc. 

•a  strips  3  in.  by  7^  ft.  of  drill  cloth  to  be  used  as  puttees. 
*2  strips  3  in.  by  7%  ft.  of  lighter  weight  drill  cloth  to  be  used 

as  puttees. 

I  pint  Hudson's  solvent. 
I  outfit  of  Winchester  cleaning  solution  for  removing  metal 

fouling  (never  used). 
50  yards  manila  ^-\nch  rope. 
75  yards  cotton  |^-inch  rope. 

I  ball  heavy  cotton  twine  for  sewing  tents,  tarps,  etc. 
3  cases  Carnation  milk. 

There  is  another  article  that  has  been  called 
to  my  attention  since  returning  and  which  I 
surely  would  take  to  that  country  if  I  should  ever       , 
go  there  again.    I  refer  to  the  Perfection  cape,  a    ^> 
rubberized   silk   coat   reaching  just   below   the 
knees,  absolutely  rainproof  and  weighing  but  19 
ounces.     It  packs  into  a  flexible  leather  case 
4x8x2  inches  and  can  easily  be  carried  in  the 
pocket.     It  is  made  by  the  Athol  Mfg.  Co.  of 
Athol,  Mass. 


207. 


Twelfth  Chapter 


AFTERTHOUGHTS 


,  *-  - 

2 l§ 


s        Q. 

s  ,  s 


. 

>,  o  j:  5? 
*-  "  t  c 


O    O  — 


TWELFTH  CHAPTER 
AFTERTHOUGHTS 

ideas  of  Alaska  and  Yukon  Territory 
are  usually  associated  with  obscure  visions 
of  mucklucks  and  mushing,  blizzards  and  bidar- 
kas,  yet  very  little  of  this  life  was  ever  apparent 
to  us  as  we  traveled  thru.  True,  the  double- 
ender  used  by  Stampede  Mary  in  her  memorable 
mush  to  Shushanna  (officially  spelled  Chisana) 
during  the  gold  rush  was  pointed  out  to  us,  and 
I  believe  the  sled  dog  that  Billy  the  Bear  traded 
to  Four-Eyed  Brown  was  shown  while  we  were 
in  McCarthy;  yet,  except  for  a  few  such  sou- 
venirs, we  saw  very  little  evidence  of  the  actual 
life  of  the  musher,  due,  of  course,  to  the  fact 
that  our  pilgrimage  there  was  during  the  warm- 
weather  period.  We  were,  however,  told  various 
stirring  tales  of  the  adventures  of  those  who 
passed  hard  winters  in  that  clime,  Cap  Hubrick 
and  Shorty  Gwin  vicing  with  each  other  in  set- 
ting  off  the  most  extravagant  displays  of  super- 
heated verbal  fireworks  for  our  especial  enter- 
tainment. Of  course,  neither  Cap  nor  Shorty 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

ever  intended  to  deliberately  "gas"  us — they 
merely  formed  a  mutual  resolve  at  the  beginning 
of  the  trip  that  we  should  not  lack  for  entertain- 
ment during  the  sunless  days  and  the  gameless 
days,  and,  both  being  capable  linguists,  as  well 
as  sourdoughs  of  many  years'  standing  in  that 
community,  two  more  capable  men  than  they 
could  not  have  been  selected  to  charge  us  with 
the  moral,  mental  and  physical  atmosphere  of 
that  region. 

My  general  impression  of  Alaska  is  that  there 
are  some  wonderful  characters  of  men  and 
women  there,  and  that  the  territory  contains 
sections,  as  did  other  parts  of  the  West  during 
frontier  days,  in  which  pure  sand  assays  as  high 
in  the  make-up  of  a  man  as  pure  gold.  And  yet, 
men's  lives  and  brave  deeds  are  sold  cheaply  in 
Alaska.  There  the  hardest  hide  covers  the 
softest  heart.  Human  life  there  is  filled  with 
wonderful  emotions — the  greatest  thrills,  the 
deepest  pains,  the  greatest  passions,  the  most 
perfect  patience. 

We  hunted  a  country  where  every  high  moun- 
tain represented  a  tentacular  ice  plaster  from  ten 
to  one  hundred  miles  across  it — some  single  gla- 
ciers containing  as  much  ice  as  is  found  in  the 
whole  of  Switzerland.  It  takes  men  of  strong 
courage  and  stout  limb  to  live  the  sourdough's 
life,  but  years,  of  participation  in  this  work  builds 
up  the  constitution,  hardens  the  muscles,  and 


212 


AFTERTHOUGHTS 

makes  men  of  iron  out  of,  sometimes,  the  most 
debilitated  specimens  of  humanity. 

My  advice  to  all  men,  as  emphasized  in  Out- 
door Life  and  personally,  has  ever  been  directed 
toward  living  as  much  of  their  life  in  the  open  as 
possible.  Learn  to  cultivate  a  participation  in 
some  outdoor  hobby  (if  you  haven't  been  be- 
guiled in  that  direction  already)  to  such  an  ex- 
tent and  with  such  fervor  that  it  will  actually 
infringe  on  your  official  and  social  duties,  and 
occasionally  be  allowed  to  upset  even  some  of 
your  most  profitable  and  highly  cherished  busi- 
ness plans.  Take  this  hobby  home  with  you  and 
treat  it  as  you  would  your  best  friend;  listen  to 
its  whims,  answer  its  call  and  walk  with  it  in  the 
open.  I  care  not  whether  this  outdoor  pursuit 
happens  to  come  in  the  form  of  dangling  an 
earthworm  over  an  inoffensive  and  untenanted 
water-hole,  or  bringing  down  an  elephant  in  the 
jungle.  One  is  as  good  for  your  health  as  the 
other  if  you  get  enough  of  it. 

Bear  in  mind  that  if  you  would  promote  and 
keep  alive  that  great  organism  which  you  call 
your  mortal  coil,  there  are  a  few  fundamental 
rules  you  should  observe  while  straying  along 
this  here  earthly  trail.  If  you  don't  so  listen  to 
the  call  of  nature  you'll  become  mouldy  of  mind, 
yellow  of  skin,  crooked  of  shoulder  and  so  over- 
wrought and  nervous  that  in  the  end  you  will 
not  be  a  fit  companion  for  even  a  prairie-dog. 


213 


IN  THE  ALASKA-YUKON  GAMELANDS 

Remember  that  the  axle-grease  that  lubricates 
your  bearings  and  liberates  the  crinkles  from 
your  brain  isn't  taken  directly  into  your  nozzle 
by  gulps,  but  in  the  form  of  sunny  and  airy 
energizer  it  must  percolate  thru  your  pores  by 
degrees.  Send  yourself  out  and  into  it  long  and 
often.  It's  a  commodity  that  is  sold  by  no  drug- 
gist, but  comes  as  an  elixir  from  Heaven,  flooding 
the  whole  of  the  outdoors  in  its  welcoming  call 
to  you  to  "come  in." 

Forget  that  your  limbs  were  only  made  to 
stretch  a  tailor's  tape  on  or  to  throw  under  a  desk 
in  working  hours.  Take  a  new  grip  on  yourself 
and  learn  that  a  gun  or  a  rod,  when  used  prop- 
erly, form  a  wand  that  will  kill  more  germs  than 
Bill  Hohenzollern  ever  let  loose  in  his  palmiest 
day.  If  you  will  follow  the  above  advice  you 
will,  by  the  glow  of  your  cheek,  the  spark  of 
your  eye,  the  spring  of  your  step  and  the  wit  of 
your  mind,  show  to  those  waiting  heirs  and  as- 
signs that  it  will  be  a  mighty  long  time  yet  be- 
fore anything  is  pulled  off  of  any  great  interest 
to  them. 

In  conclusion,  I  hope  my  readers  will  get  more 
generally  into  the  habit  of  writing  up  their  hunt- 
ing trips  for  publication  in  the  sporting  maga- 
zines. Constructing  a  story  is  somewhat  similar 
to  building  a  house— only  many  times  easier,  for 
the  reason  that  you  have  everything  at  hand  in 
your  study  instead  of  having  to  gather  the  sev- 


214 


AFTERTHOUGHTS 

eral  materials  together  as  a  contractor  must  do 
to  finish  the  job.  For  instance:  Your  idealism 
is  the  architect  of  your  story;  knowledge  of  your 
subject  is  the  foundation  of  your  structure;  your 
words  are  the  bricks,  stones,  timbers,  etc.  (and 
certainly  there  is  no  dearth  of  these) ;  your  good 
judgment  is  the  mortar  and  nails  that  hold  them 
together,  and  your  caution  is  the  shingles  that 
cover  up  the  defects  of  thought  and  expression. 
Adios. 

THE  END 


215 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGCNfi  ueflA«^*gUJ 


A     001039719     8 


